Breath of the Serpent
by CoryMS
Summary: Sequel to Consequences of Change
1. Chapter 1

The movie "Pitch Black" and all it's original characters are the property of Universal, Interscope and USA Films, et al. This story is for entertainment purposes only and not for profit. All characters original to the story are the property of the author.

Breath of the Serpent

CHAPTER 1

The room was smoky. Filled with the laughter of miner's and their lovers. Grateful to have made it through another day. Throbbing with the sounds of music and glasses tinkling and people talking.

He'd just come out of the john and was walking towards the table that sat Zar, Molly and Esker. The two women were laughing at something, probably dirty as Hell, that his mining partner had said.

He concentrated on the look of Zar's face. It was more alive than he'd seen in since they'd come to Delightful 7, or Dee7, the name given to the planet by the miner's who worked her. She was smiling, and laughing so hard that she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting out the swig of beer she'd just taken. 

He didn't have any particular feelings toward Esker and Molly one way or the other. He was not a man who needed people per se. Escaped convicts weren't exactly known for their social skills. And he was fine with that. As long as Zar was a part of his life, he had everything he needed.

But he was grateful for the friendship the fellow miner and his woman had brought into Zar's life. She was a person who definitely needed to be around people. Good people. People who laughed and joked and just generally acted normal. The things he couldn't give her.

Her face was flushed with happiness. The only time it looked better was when it stared up at him as he made love to her.

He slowed his pace deliberately so that he could look at her longer unawares. She was the love of his life. The rescuer of his body and soul. A woman with such a big heart, such a brave heart, that she could look beyond the label the ASF, the prisons, and all the mental health 'experts' had given him and still love him. A soft, very small smile crossed his lips.

Seconds later it was gone. Replaced with a look of disbelief and fear so intense that the muscles of his mouth cramped.

A movement behind Zar that quickly materialized into Miriam Gonzalez. 

The woman who had seduced and tortured him, then brutally dug out his left eye. The eye had been replaced on Dee7. The memories of being at the mercy of such a person for hours hadn't. 

He and Zar had barely escaped with their lives from Polaris Station. Only quick thinking, and a suicidal devotion to him on Zar's part had prevented the mercenary Miriam Gonzalez from having her revenge. Revenge for the death of William Johns after the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner on Taurus 2. He'd been her fellow merc and sometimes lover. How she was so sure Richard had killed the twisted, greedy fuck, he never could figure out. Maybe she didn't need conclusive proof. For many mercenaries it was shoot first, ask questions later. 

But one thing was a certainty. She was mentally unbalanced. With the know-how and the proverbial balls to attain her demented quest. Ebony hair complimented hazel eyes and a tall, lithe figure. Sexy to the extreme. Exactly the kind of woman that attracted him in the first place.

And now she was here.

With a slick, fast movement she grabbed the unknowing woman by the hair. Cruelly dragging her up by the curly, light brown strands. Placing a long, serrated knife to her throat to forestall any defensive move.

He couldn't seem to get any closer to the table. Time slowed only for him. Terror dulling his reflexes and mind.

Miriam looked up to where he was. Smiling as she watched him try to get through the crowd that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

His vision focused to the point that he could see only three things. Zar's pleading, terrified eyes, Miriam's evil grin, and the blade that slowly ripped the throat out of the woman he loved.

"NOOOOO!!!!!"

Blood shot out over the table. Landing in a hot gush against his face. Bone and cartilage gleamed wetly from the gaping wound as Zar's body fell heavily to the floor. The sounds of her desperate quest for air explosively loud.

He reached her. Diving to the floor while reaching for her blood covered body. All other danger forgotten. 

Franticly he encircled her neck with his hands. Trying to keep the blood in her body. But he knew it was no good. 

The light was fading from her eyes. Leaving her staring up at the ceiling with a last look of pain and horror. 

Then nothingness.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

"Richard!...for God's sake wake up!"

He came back to wakefulness with a head throbbing rush. The adrenaline in his body still at full throttle from the trauma. 

Reflexively he jumped up from the table where he'd been sleeping. Sending the chair falling to its back and skidding across the room with a loud clatter. His body automatically going to fight mode. Arms raised, legs spread wide for balance.

For a moment he couldn't place where he was. It didn't look like the cantina. It was way too quite. The only sounds that of his labored breathing.

"Richard! It's okay! It's only a dream!"

Slowly, half-afraid he was still dreaming, he turned his head to stare at the owner of the beloved voice. One only seconds earlier he was sure he would never hear again. Zar's stared back at him. Distorted in pinks and grays and whites by his eyes. A look of concern radiating from her eyes.

Was this the dream? Was he still in the cantina? A crazed, catatonic man made delusional by grief and shock?

The stark terror coming from his shined eyes left her breathless. He was in shock! Seemingly incapable of doing anything more than staring at her with a face tight with inconsolable grief. Breathing heavily and soaking with sweat, he still wore his work overalls. Smelled vaguely of Sargimite, hard work and chemicals.

It was four o'clock in the "morning." Or what passed for morning on Dee7. She'd woken only minutes before when she had reached over in a quick moment of lucidity to touch him. Something she did a number of times throughout the night. Feeling the cold, empty place next to her, it had worried her into complete consciousness. Glancing at the digital readout embedded in the wall opposite their bed, she'd been filled with a sense of unease. He rarely stayed out this late. Even nights he went to the cantina with Esker.

She'd been debating on whether to get up or not, when she'd heard his first scream.

Heart pounding, she'd rushed out to the dining area. Found him slumped over the table. Resting on his crossed arms, his head tossing violently back and forth.

Immediately she took in the situation. A bad dream. But it seemed beyond that. 

Calling his name, she'd hoped to rescue him from his incubus. He hadn't heard her and continued to flounder under the force of whatever ugliness that had been playing in his minds eye. His second scream had torn at her heart. So full of pain and terror.

She'd called his name with more force the second time. Desperate to end his torment.

He come out of the chair like a rocket. As if ready to fight whatever demons that were brave enough to follow him into the real world. 

Now she slowly approached him, afraid to unsettle him anymore. She walked to the chair he'd upended. Setting it right and against his legs. Carefully taking hold of his arm and lowering him into it.

Her touch seemed to loosen the bonds of the whatever terror induced paralysis that had been immobilizing him.

Suddenly she found her short, plumb body lifted into his arms and then deposited on his seated thighs. Wrapped almost painfully in his tightest embrace.

The shaking began and it tore her apart. Also scared the shit out of her. She'd never seen him this way.

He buried his head in her chest. Taking deep gulping breaths. Soon she felt the tell-tale moisture of tears seeping through her night gown. A white cast off t-shirt of Richard's. 

Not knowing what else to do, she hugged him back. Rubbing his back and head. Murmuring nonsense words of love and comfort. Until she felt the racing throb of his heart slowly regain a more normal rhythm. 

As his body wound down from it's self inflicted torture, his embrace loosened. His arms sliding down slowly to rest on her hips.

"You need to tell me what it was about. Dreams loose their terror the more they're talked about."

He gave no response other than to shake his shaven head against her chest.

"Richard, remember my dreams of Brenner? What did you tell me? Something like I was tearing myself up inside by not talking to you? Now, please, tell me!"

His body heaved a great sigh. Slowly raising his head he let it fall back to rest on the back of the chair. Keeping his eyes closed the whole time. Bringing his hands from her hips to rub at wet his face.

"Death. I dreamed of death."

Zar felt the struggle in him as he tried to regain his composure. Something still wasn't making sense. For a man whom many considered death personified, a person could be excused for believing him somewhat insensitive to the subject.

"Your death?"

Slowly he shook his back and forth. 

Frustrated she took hold of his face in both of her small hands. "Then whose? Come on! Let it out! It only holds power over you if you don't bring it out in the light of day."

Raising his face he slowly opened his eyes to meet hers. Pursing his lips tight, he seemed to fight a battle within himself. 

She knew.

"Oh...mine. You saw me die. And not a pretty way I take it?"

He nodded his head as he answered, "Yours. I saw your death. Miriam sliced your throat open."

He eyes widened at the brutality of his words. Perversely she felt the need to swallow. The minds way of making sure it still had a working throat.

And then reality stepped back in. 

"It was just a dream! A nightmare. We both know it's not going to happen. If she knew where we were, she'd have been here by now!"

Leaning down she pressed her warm mouth the his surprisingly cold one. Rubbing circles on his rib cage with her hands in a gesture of comfort.

"You're tired. You've been working sixteen hour shifts since we got here five weeks ago! The nightmare is your body's way of telling you to slow down and let it recharge.

Now come to bed. Let me hold you while you sleep. I promise there won't be any more nightmares."

She'd been right. The dreams horror was slowly fading. Dying under the onslaught of her love and common sense. And he had to admit that she was probably right. He'd been working too long of hours, under very crappy conditions at that. But he'd been worked harder than this and nightmares hadn't been a problem before. Oh, he'd always been a light sleeper. A matter of necessity in prison life. But he usually slept the sleep of the innocent. Something that baffled, and bothered, all the damn mind-twisters that had studied his so-called psychopathic tendencies.

The civilized part of himself kept telling him that he just needed sleep. But the animal side, the side that knew there was more to reality than the five senses, wasn't buying it. The dream had been more than just a dream.

He was worried it had been a premonition. A warning. It would just be like God to torment him with visions of a future that included a murdered Zar. Knowing there was probably shit he could do about it. That was the fucked thing about Fate. No matter how hard you tried to dodge it, it usually found a way to make things happen its way.

Right now he couldn't worry about. He wouldn't worry about it. He needed to be in her arms. To tell both sides of himself, the civilized and the animal, that it had just been a bad dream. Not the inevitable future.

Looking at her pinkish face, he saw the worry she felt for him. He'd never acted this way before. Spooked. There was no other way to put it. The dream had shaken him majorly.

Well, he couldn't do anything about the dream. But he could do something about her worry.

Forcing his face to relax and give a typical Riddick smile, he sarcastically asked, "I guess you're not going to be happy until I let you mother me, are you?"

She didn't take offense at his tone. She knew him too well to think he meant any harm by it. Knew he was trying to relieve her anxiety. Folding her arms on his chest she rested her chin on them.

Smiling, she told him, "Yep. So you might as well come quietly."

His smile grew to a disturbing width. Sexual charisma and bad-boy charm radiating from his face.

She knew she was in for a zinger even before he opened his mouth.

"Oh, I come very quietly. It's you that can't keep your mouth shut."

In the early times of their relationship she would've blushed furiously at his innuendo. But a woman wasn't Richard Riddick's lover for any amount of time and still remain easy to discomfit. The man didn't have a decorous bone in his body. He knew he was a prime physical specimen. 

Tall, very muscular, with milk-in-coffee skin, he radiated sex appeal. The added charms of the shined eyes, bad-ass (her nickname for him when she'd first met him) attitude and intimidatingly shaven head made for a charismatic, and fuckable man. He liked the way women looked at him. He was a male of the species after all. He would've answered the door stark naked if she hadn't made him promise not to. 

Zar had learned to hold her own in his sexual repartee. It had been that or be in a constant state of embarrassment.

"That a challenge bud? 'Cause if it is, well let's just say I think I'm more than up to it. Which...huh...seems more than you can manage at the moment." Her hand reached down and cupped between his thighs. A flirtatious smile brightening her once pensive face.

The dream faded farther with the light from her smile. He felt almost normal again. A blessed relief.

Grabbing her hand he brought it up to his lips. He wasn't a man to make romantic gestures. But it felt easy and right at that moment.

Becoming serious he whispered, "Thank you."

Gently she removed her hand from his. But it didn't go far. Rather she cupped his face and rubbed his lips softly with her thumb.

Whispering words back to him. 

"You're welcome."   



	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The conversation gradually made its way into his consciousness. 

Some shmuck of a miner trying to scam someone into buying a ring he had to get rid of.

He'd been intent on scanning the immediate area. Something he regularly did since landing on Dee7 five weeks ago. The other times he'd been caught had been because he let his guard down. Became lazy and complacent.

The dream had left him in a heightened state of wariness. He had the feeling that it hadn't been a onetime thing. That someone, something was sending him a message. Set in stone fate or just warning yet to be seen. It hadn't made a reappearance. Yet. So it led credence to Zar's contention that it had just been fluke of stress, tiredness and years of living as if the other shoe was about to drop. It made him realize that he didn't trust happiness. But, fuck, who would blame him? The happiest he'd ever been was since Zar had come into his life. It didn't stop God or Fate or whatever the fuck was running his life from screwing it six ways from Sunday. 

This search proved as benign as all the others. Nothing out of place, no strangers, nobody trying NOT to be obvious about watching him. So his mind finally let him tune into what was going on around him in his immediate vicinity.

Richard B. Riddick, a.k.a. Rick Miller, sat with his fellow miners at an above ground commissary provided by the Delightful Mining Company. Zar had wanted him to use the name Richie Miller. She had gracefully, if laughingly, given the idea up when he'd asked her did she think HE looked like a Richie?! As she had made her way to the bathroom to take her nightly shower, she'd laughingly told him he could always call himself Dick. 

He smiled slightly as he remembered the punishment he'd handed out to her for her disrespectful suggestion. He was sure the long, hard, slow, wet, hot session of lovemaking in the shower had taught her a lesson about being insolent. In his heart he knew that if she had really wanted him to go by the name Dick, he'd do it for her. She had him that wrapped around her little finger. He might think he was the one in charge. And she let him believe it for his ego's sake. But when push came to shove, she ruled his world.

He'd do anything for Zarifa Cholena. 

As he leaned back against the wall, his lips twisted with derision at the hustler's pitch. The guys name was Ed Rollins.

Something about him reminded Richard of Elson Brenner. Maybe it was the greasy hair or it could've been the light blue eyes. Smallish in physique, of mixed race. His eyes were normal unlike the other three quarters of the miners. It seemed the majority of the miners of the Dee system had been altered ocularly in one way or another. Made Richard feel downright at home sometimes.

Whatever the resemblance, it involved the physical aspect only. The man was such a loser that Richard doubted he had the guts to kill any one, even in self-defense.

Like so many of the miners, he had a hidden past. If fencing or scamming had been his thing before, it was obvious why he needed the dangerous money of mining. The creep had to work on his delivery. He himself obviously didn't believe the shit he was shoveling.

It showed in the lack of interest among his fellow workers. It might have been a valuable piece of jewelry, but the guy was trying too hard to convince his prospective buyers of the fact. Because he came across as smarmy, they weren't even bothering to look. They just laughed at him and told him to try his little act on some gullible fool.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the half-hour break period. As everyone rose to head for the below ground elevators, Richard caught a glimpse of the ring as Rollins was putting it away. The band was either of white gold or silver. He guessed white gold. The simple round cut emerald was cornered by four smaller diamonds. Not an ostentatious piece of jewelry, but pretty nonetheless. It reminded him of Zar.

They'd told everyone they were married. More importantly, as far as he was concerned, Zar was his wife. He didn't need the official words spoken or a legal piece of paper. They couldn't marry conventionally. That involved brining the both of them to the attention of the authorities. He needed to avoid the attention for obvious reasons. She did also to evade the murderous protection group that had killed her family on Jessup 3. 

A preliminary background check, encompassing the known galaxy, was done in order to assure the couple that the other was on the up and up. But even worse, a DNA test was required. Either inquiry would seriously test the web of lies they had created in order to live their lives in safety. Richard knew even a whiff of his DNA would set alarm bells off in every operational ASF base. Even being listed as dead after the Taurus 2 crash would not stop them from investigating. He was known for his ability to survive the unsurvivable after all. And for all he knew, Miriam Gonzalez had let the cat out of the bag. Frustrated and humiliated at his escape.

Also, by not officially marrying him, Zar still had a chance at safety if the shit ever the fan. Besides, he figured she deserved a better name than Riddick. Between the atrocities attributed to him and the actual crimes he'd committed, it left a bad taste even in his mouth.

No, marrying officially just wasn't smart. But it didn't mean he didn't consider her his mate for life. It was a moot point to him on how long that life would be. She was his. He was hers. Period. The Miriam Gonzalez's of the world not withstanding. 

But Zar was sentimental. Being married before, the institution meant something to her. To him it was just words. He didn't hold much value in words. Actions meant so much more.

Maybe that's why he never bothered to promise Zar he'd change. He just went about it day by day. It was a struggle more often than not. There were always assholes and fuckheads trying to drag him back to the way he used to live his life. But, she was always there, fighting for him even when he was too cowardly to fight for himself.

He knew a piddley little thing like a ring would make her happy. 

"Hey, Rollins. Let me see that piece of shit you're trying to pass off as a ring."

Rollins had been just ahead of Richard. Shoulders slumped in dejection, he'd been shuffling along. The sound of the big man's voice had scared him at first. Usually the only time men like Rick Miller talked to him it was too tell him how much they were going to hurt him. Never mind that he usually deserved it. 

But then the gist of the words worked their way into his brain. He had a buyer! And oh God!...he really needed a buyer. He owed Big Lou, the busiest bookie on Dee7 the money by tonight. That's why he was selling his mother's wedding ring. The only thing he had left of her. Fuck! Why didn't his bets ever win?!

Turning on what he thought was charm, he spun back to Rick. He wouldn't of thought of him as being the jewelry buying kind of guy. But Rollins knew he had a woman. Zor, Zer? No, Zar. That was it. Weird looking couple. Muscular, brown-skinned, bald and just plain mean looking, the man was just shy of being gargantuan. He was the phrase bad-ass personified. Rarely smiling and never talking other than necessary. You could just see him doing time in some penal colony or such. 

The woman was a short, pale smiler. Hung out with Esker and his wife Molly. On the plump side, with curly brown hair, her blue eyes always seemed wrinkled with good cheer.

He wondered how a man like Miller ever ended up with a woman like that. She looked the kind to bake chocolate chip cookies and have dinner ready at 1800 hrs every night. He looked liked the type that killed women who made cookies and had dinner ready at 1800 hours every night. But when seen together, there was something there. Never far from her side, always listening to what she had to say. He didn't get that "yeah, honey, whatever" look that most shackled men had. Still a bad-ass but an attentive bad-ass in a...scary...kind of way. Who'd of thunk it?!

"Hey, Miller! Sure, man. It's a beaut! Was my mother's, God rest her soul."

Handing the ring to him, Rollins watched anxiously as the other miner inspected it. 

Right away Richard knew it was the real thing. Looked like it would fit Zar's pudgy fingers too.

"How much?"

Soon after a price was agreed upon. Rollins had tried to bullshit for an extra thousand, but as the saying went, never try to scam a scammer.

The ring was slipped safely into the inside pocket of his work overalls. Sitting appropriately over his heart. Waiting for the end of his shift.  
It came four hours later. With a sense of anticipation, a first that didn't involve sex or death, he headed towards their living quarters.

He looked around at the little apartment as he stepped in. It wasn't that much different than the one on Polaris Station. Or for that matter, different than most living quarters for workers in space. This one was smaller though. You came into a small commons area that boasted a mock wood, four seater dining table with poly-resin chairs off to the right. On the left side of the room was a long sofa and a coffee table. The wall opposite had a sunk in vid-screen. Between the dining area and the viewing area were two doors. The left led to the bathroom, the right to their bedroom, the only sleeping quarters they had.

Everything had a shiny, pre-fab, metallic/plastic quality about it. Bare taupe walls, medium brown cheap carpeting. Easy to clean, easy to replace. Very hard to make it look anything but cold and functional. Since they'd both been working so much, he at the mine, she at the commissary, little had been added to make it more homey. Due to the nature of the escape, nothing could be brought from Polaris. Not even a picture of Audrey and Hill.

But it was home because Zar was there. And the sight of her face made up for all the pricks and assholes that seemed a permanent part of his day.

Right now it was low lit. Not for him. With his enhanced eye sight he could see like it was day in the darkest of night. It was for Zar. She had horrible night vision. Evidently a side effect of the Orion Plague that had sickened her and claimed both her parents. Without the lighting, she'd as likely run into the wall as go into the bathroom if she had to make a late night run. 

The apartment was quiet so she must be in bed. Her shift at the commissary started an hour earlier than his at the mine. She was usually in bed when he came home due to his late shifts and her need to rise early. The only time they really saw each other was the one day off they both got. Luckily it was on the same day of the week.

The ring was burning a whole in his pocket. He'd never given a gift to anyone before. Not even Zar. It just wasn't his nature. Nobody had ever given him anything as a child or adult. Not unless there had been some ulterior motive. Zar had tried early in their relationship to buy little things for him. But gave up when she realized that he had a hard time accepting them. It made him uncomfortable and therefore defensive and sarcastic. A knee-jerk reaction. He just didn't know how to handle kindness. In the giving or receiving.

He figured he could just leave it on the table. Let her find it in the morning. But a small part of him wanted to see her face very badly when she saw it. 

Is this what other people felt? Normal people? At birthdays, Christmas? This sense of wanting to please and surprise someone they cared about? The waiting in suspense to see if the thought and effort you put into a gift would be appreciated? 

Shit...if so...it sucked! Felt like a ball wedged somewhere up under his gut. Ugh...the things men did for women. He still didn't understand why they did them, but now he at least understood that they had to do them. Couldn't help themselves. 

Welcome to the human race Riddick.

The bedroom was dark except for the light coming from the green digital wall clock. It smelled of his dirty clothes, the scent of washing detergent and the unique smell that was Zar's alone. Part natural body smells, part perfume, part cookie dough. 

He could hear the soft, even sleeper's breathing coming from her spread out form. For someone who loved to sleep right up against him (something he had to learn to deal with, not being used to someone staying long enough to sleep after sex), she sure hogged the bed when he wasn't there.

"Ten percent light." The room lightened to a soft glow. Just enough light for her to see, without hurting her sleep accustomed eyes.

Discarding his clothes quickly, he slipped into bed next to her. Right on cue, she turned over and snuggled into his chest. An unconscious smile lighting her face at his touch. She wasn't really awake, but a part of her knew he was there and all was right with the world.

He whispered softly in her ear, "Hey...wake up. I've got a surprise for you." He rubbed her shoulder lightly, hoping to make the waking process less jolting. The automatic gentleness whenever he touched her still confounded him. He'd no idea where it came from. He had never been on the receiving end, that was for sure. But with her, it came naturally.

Brought awake at the sound of his voice, she blinked her way to full awareness.

Before her was Richard's hand. Held in between his index finger and thumb was a ring. In profile all she could see was it's silvery band and the prongs that held the jewels.

He watched with a serious face as she frowningly tried to figure out what she was really seeing.

Taking her right hand from his chest, he slipped the ring onto her third finger. It was a bit loose, but he was sure they could get it fitted easily.

Zar held her hand out before her face. Turning her hand this way and that. Studying the ring and how it looked on her hand. Giving herself time to get a grip on what just happened. 

She could feel the tension in the body next to hers. This was something very important to him. More meaningfully, it was a big step for him. He'd never given her anything but necessities before. She knew what the ring meant. Though she didn't need any tangible evidence of his commitment, it touched her to know that he wanted her to have that evidence nonetheless.

She wouldn't ask where he got it. That would just seem to lessen the gesture. She would just trust that he got it legally. Knowing she wouldn't like it if someone got hurt in order for her to be given a gift.

Tears started to pool in her eyes, soon spilling down her cheeks.

"It's beautiful!"

He felt as if a large weight had been lifted off his chest. 

Palm to palm, he mirrored her hand with his. Marveling at the smallness of her bone structure, for all the padding it contained. The tips of her fingers fell just short of the knuckle below his nails. The palm of her hand dwarfed by his wider grip.

Lifting her head, she brushed her lips against his. "Thank you. Though you know you didn't have to."

"I know. I just...I don't know...I saw it and it..." Unable to finish, he threaded his fingers through hers, enclosing her hand. The ring winked in the subtle light. "But it's no big thing."

She wanted to shout that it was indeed a "big thing." But she knew that would just make him uncomfortable.  
So she did what he would be most comfortable with. Gave him a simple thank you. 

As they settled down to sleep, she played with the ring. Astounded by the man who rested next to her. Never in her life would she have figured it. A man like him with a woman like her. Both had changed to fit with the other. On the surface it looked liked she had made the bigger change in order to be with him. In reality, it was the other way around.

She'd always been capable of love. With Richard all she did was allow herself to love a different kind of man than she normally would have.

But for Richard, it was totally different. He'd never known love before. Had only experienced the opposite in fact. Now he'd come to the point that he felt the need to express it.

It boggled her mind at his transformation. Awed at his growth, she doubted she could have done the same. 

How did one LEARN to love when one had never BEEN loved?! SEEN love? FELT love?

She didn't know the answer, but the proof that it could happen encircled her finger. It enfolded her in flesh and blood arms. Gifted her with an intangible presence whenever they were in the same room together.

As she drifted back to sleep, one word kept repeating in her mind.

"Amazing."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"Sir, there's a person here demanding to see you. A mercenary by the name of Miriam Gonzalez. She says she has information concerning Richard B. Riddick."

The adjutant's attitude was obvious. He didn't like the presence of the dark-haired beauty waiting impatiently in the general's outer office. It would have given him great joy to have her escorted off the premises.

General Alphonse Bieti hadn't raised his eyes from the documents on his desk at his assistants flustered entrance. He was used to Bigsby and his habit of disturbing him in his private office with little notice. For all the man's lack of concern over protocol, he had much more intangible attributes that made him very valuable to the general.

At the mention of Riddick's name however, his eyes slowly lifted to meet Bigsby's. Deep brown eyes, almost black, stared intensely at the aggravated adjutant. He rarely looked at anyone in any other way. The force of his personality left him little choice. Not that he couldn't pull a good act when the occasion called for it.

Driven, single-minded, controlled, ruthless. Cold. Words used constantly when people were asked to describe the seventy year old Alliance Security Forces general. He hadn't reached that rank by being any other way. The ASF wasn't known for it's sociability.

"What information could she possibly have? Riddick's been dead for over two years."

Bigsby's lips twisted in derision as he relayed his conversation with the merc, "I asked the same question myself sir. But the woman insisted on telling you herself. Said she wouldn't give...and I quote... '...shit to a lackey.' Should I have her taken from the base?" The hope in his voice was unmistakable.

Bieti slowly unwound from his hunched over position. The old-fashioned leather and wood chair creaking as he relaxed against it's back. The chair went along with the theme of the rest of the office. All the furnishings, except for the essential modern gadgets, were antiques. Many dating from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 

But only fools judged Bieti based on his office. The man was anything but old-fashioned. He had the knack of adjusting with the times. He just liked the look of the furniture. He didn't believe in it or the era it came from.

"Weren't you in charge of taking care of that problem?"

"Yes sir. And I did. The ship that was transporting him back to Slam City had a 'navigation error' and crashed on Taurus 2. There were no survivors. We sent in a 'rescue' team just to make sure. Lost a troop of soldiers to the creatures that inhabit the planet while it was still in eclipse. Later we found Riddick's DNA at the sight of an abandoned settlement. It was pretty obvious the creatures got him." 

Thirty seconds later Bigsby was beginning to sweat. The general hadn't replied to his assertions. Just sat there, pinning him with an unblinking stare.

"But no body or body parts were found?"

"Well...no sir. But the creatures are carnivores and cannibalistic. There wouldn't be much left. Bones at the most. And they take those back to underground caverns. They're day shy. We would've had to send in more men. More casualties for no reason. We had Riddick's DNA confirming that blood, a lot of it from the evidence and mixed with the creatures, was spilled. There were no ships to get off of the planet even if he had survived. Richard B. Riddick died on Taurus 2. Per your instructions."

Bieti glanced down at the monitor on his desk. The mercenary waiting in his lobby was obviously beautiful. Even the somewhat grainy picture conveyed that much. Dark haired, lithe of body and fair of face. And from the body language she was exhibiting, a bitch of the first degree.

Something wasn't smelling right. 

His first impression had been that the merc was looking for a scam. But it worried him that she came to him specifically. Did she know about his association with Riddick? Most people would say it was just a coincidence. Alphonse Bieti didn't believe in coincidences.

Best to see what exactly she knew.

"Send her in."

Bigsby opened his mouth to object. But wisely, before he could utter a single a syllable, he realized the error he was about to make. 

No one, absolutely no one, questioned the commands of General Bieti. The best that could happen was that their careers stopped there and then. The worse...well...people had disappeared after making that mistake.

"Yes, sir."

The general watched impassively as the tall, dark-haired woman was escorted in by his aide.

In the back of his mind he sized her up. Sexy, dangerous, pissed and judging by the wild gleam in her eye, just an inch over the edge of insanity. 

"Ms. Gonzalez. I understand you have information about a former, and deceased, prisoner. Richard Riddick I believe."

Miriam Gonzalez measured the man behind the desk. She took in the air of command. His aura of strength that she was sure came from a cold-hearted determination to never come out on the wrong end of a decision.

"He's not dead. At least not when I left Polaris Station four months ago. He was very much alive, though a bit worse for wear." She laughed low as she remembered the damage she'd done to him before he had escaped. 

"Stole my ship, The Hollerste."

Bieti languidly raised his hands. Making a temple of them and resting the tips against his mouth. 

"You must be mistaken. Riddick died over two years ago in a crash on Taurus 2."

Snorting softly before she replied she said, "I thought so too. Even was part of the rescue and recon party you guys sent in. It wasn't until I happened to be passing through Polaris station that I learned differently. An ex-con with a beef against Riddick tried to sell me the info. 

Saw him with my own two eyes.

Your boy was living the good life, complete with his own little dumpy whore, two kids and a job. He found someway off that piece of shit planet. 

But not until he had already killed all other survivors."

Bieti watched her for long seconds. Making no effort to hide his perusal of her. He was sizing her up. On most men it would've been a sexual kind of thing. With him, it was just creepy.

When he spoke, it wasn't to ask the question most would've. Instead it was as if he keyed in on a different point altogether. 

"How do you know he killed them much less that there were any?"

Miriam shrugged as she replied, "Makes sense that if he survived, others did too. As for killing them, well, we are talking about Riddick aren't we?" 

The rage started filling her again as thought of Johns, and the ugly fate that had waited him at the hands of one of the nastiest creatures ever to be called human. How much had Riddick made him suffer? How long had it taken him to die? How much had Riddick laughed as he slipped towards death?

"There's something I don't understand. If you had Riddick, why didn't you bring him in?"

Her lips tightened as she recounted the circumstances of Riddick's escape. "There were some problems with the authorization to depart the station. I had to leave the ship, and him, to get it straightened out. Must've been the cow he was shacking up with. She was a dock tech and would know how to snafu the whole thing. When I came back, he and the ship were gone."

"Ahhh...and now you want us to go find him for you again? Is that it?"

"You guys wanted him too! So don't pull that bullshit on me!"

"Why didn't you notify the ASF immediately when you learned he was alive?  
Miriam knew better than to confess her need to torture Riddick. Once she had decided to involve the ASF, she had fashioned a story that would cover all her bases.

"Didn't want a bunch of merc's descending on me. You guys would've taken him and I wouldn't have seen the reward for years! I was just going to take him nice and quite back to Slam."

Bigsby wondered if the woman noticed the drop in temperature of the room. He surely did. The general was not pleased. There was going to be a price to pay for that displeasure.

"So where is he now?"  
"Ha...if I knew that I wouldn't be here would I? I bought another ship and looked for his trail for a month. Not a thing. But he knows the ghost lanes and the methods to run under radar. I don't have the resources to dig any deeper. The ASF does. So I went into the tubes and came to the nearest ASF base. 

I want that fucker caught and put back in Slam! Preferably more dead than alive!"

Bieti took in the not-quite-controlled gleam of the merc's eye. She was a loose canon. And if Riddick really were alive, something that seemed more and more likely, then she would only be a hindrance. Any help she could contribute had already been rendered. 

Tapping one longer, well groomed finger against the desk, it appeared that he was deep in thought. Bigsby knew better and sidled slowly further away from Gonzalez. 

Leaning his crossed arms on the desk, Bieti sighed. Lowering his eyes, he ran his hands dramatically over his face. For all the world he seemed to become a tired old man. Bigsby move closer to the wall. Wondered how a mercenary like Miriam Gonzalez could have survived this long without learning how to read bad vibes. Then again, maybe she was just that far gone.

Never raising his eyes, Bieti addressed her, "Very well Gonzalez, you'll get your help. And your reward. Can't very well have Richard B. Riddick running around now can we? Bigsby, get her some quarters. We'll meet back here at oh-eight hundred hours to formulate a plan."

Miriam felt a rush of satisfaction flow through her dead heart. Finally, Riddick would get what was coming to him.

Rising, she smiled at the General. All of the anger, grief and madness had coalesced into a small ball of reality blinding determination. She had hated coming to the ASF, but she'd been out of options. Hell, she'd have gone to Satan himself to get Riddick. The smile she gave Bieti reflected the answering ironic thought that maybe she had.

"Good. We'll start tomorrow then."

Turning towards the door, she missed the transformation back from tired old man to icily calm killer.

"Oh Gonzalez...don't I even get a 'thank you?'"

Miriam didn't bother to give him the respect of facing him when she responded. She got what she wanted out of him, ASF cooperation. And if they thought they could take this operation away from her, well they needed to learn now that Miriam Gonzalez was no one's fool. And no one's rug. Try to walk over her and all it would get you was rug burn. Maybe even a lethal dose.

"You'll get your thanks when I have Riddick back in custody. Until then, you haven't done squat for me."

"Oh, I don't know about that..." 

The laser, a new proto-type being worked on by the ASF weapons division, made only a low hum as it discharged once. It burned a fist sized hole in the back of her head. The majority of the brain and it's cavity fried to charred remains.

The body went to it's knees then flopped face first against the door. Slowly sliding down until it rested fully on the floor. The smell of death...burned flesh, released bowels and bladder, and blood...filled the room.

"It seems I did give you 'squat' after all Gonzalez. I gave you death."

The laser was quietly locked into a desk drawer while a indifferent hand gestured towards the cooling body. "You know what to do Bigsby. Clean it up quickly and quietly. Then come straight back. We have a lot of plans to make. Mr. Riddick is out there somewhere. 

It seems the Breath of the Serpent has stirred once again."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

"Don't forget..."

The sound of a drinking glass hitting the floor resounded throughout the room. It was made of one of those unbreakable plastic polymer's. It didn't shatter as regular glass would, but it made up for it with an ear drum bursting noise whenever it hit something.

The wince on Zar's face was quickly replaced by a look of deep concern. 

She evidently had startled Richard when she'd come into the room in talking mode. A behavior that was normal for her. Something he should've been way used to by now.

She didn't know what was more disturbing. The fact that she had surprised him or that he'd dropped the glass. He was the most unflappable, most graceful man she'd ever known. He just didn't startle and drop things.

Richard hadn't turned around. Just bent down to pick up the glass and then proceeded to fill it with water. She'd expected him to turn around and give her Hell for making him drop the glass. Anyone else would've. Instead he'd acted as is nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

He'd been moody and quite ever since the dreams' return of a week ago. 

After the first night, he seemed to be getting back to normal. The gift of the 'wedding' ring and its poignancy had touched her deeply.

Then the dream had returned. He'd had it two more times. Exactly the same in every aspect except for who did the killing. The second time had Johns slitting her throat. The third...well, he wouldn't tell her who'd done the deed that time. 

But as bad as he was disturbed, she feared she knew. She had a sickening hunch that he'd been the doer in the third dream. It was the only scenario she could think of to merit the level of unease and personality change he was showing. 

The night of the third dream, he'd come awake violently. Covered in sweat, shaking as if with the chills. Even worse, he'd awoken screaming in fright. Something she'd never heard from him before. To be ripped from a deep sleep and hear that deep voice raised in such obvious terror had her heart beating triple time.

Instinctively she'd reached out to comfort him. But he'd reacted as if her touch burned. Trying to get away from her so quickly that he had literally fallen out of bed. Landing on all fours. Making a stumbling recovery to his feet, he had run to the bathroom. The sounds of retching heartbreaking in the quite of the early morning.

She'd been so stunned that all she could do was lie there.

Minutes later he'd emerged from the bathroom and crawled back into bed. As he climbed in behind her she felt the coolness of his skin. Leftover from his clean-up she'd prayed. Not from his fear.

She'd tried to turnover to question him. Her belief in talking about the dreams to lessen their impact decisive and unfailing. But he'd forestalled her by wrapping her in his arms tightly and whispering against the back of her head to "...just let me hold you. Please, Zar. Just let it go."

He'd sounded so shaky that she'd acquiesced without a second thought. Instead she just twined her fingers through his, tucking his arm up under her breast. Willing him to feel the steady beat of her heart as she felt his at her back. If he wouldn't let her reassure him with words, she could at least try it with her touch. Eventually she fell asleep. She didn't think he ever did though.

His behavior started to change the day after.

He started to come to the concession area for his lunch breaks. Ostensibly to spend time with her since they didn't get to see each other a lot. But she got the feeling it was more to protect her than enjoy her company. He sure as Hell didn't talk much, just scoped the area out while he sat and ate whatever she had put in front of him. She figured she could've put rotten meat on his plate and he wouldn't have noticed, his mind focused on the on some threat only he felt.

There were other instances too. She'd wake at night sometimes to find him watching her sleep. He'd lie down quickly, but not before she caught the expression on his face, one of fear mixed with a desperate determination.

She'd tried to question him at least twice about his behavior. But he'd distracted her both times with mind blowing sex. So intense and yet so tender she didn't know whether to check for bruises or cry tears of joy. 

All she could do was hope he'd work his way out of it. To see that as time went on, with no assassin showing up, that it had been just a dream. That she wasn't leaving his side. Even for death.

She didn't give one worry over her suspicions concerning the third dreams killer. It just wasn't capable of happening as far as she was concerned.

The silence had lengthened uncomfortably. After filling the glass, he'd drunk long and slow of the water. Giving his heart a chance to regain it's normal rhythm. Once done, he felt back in control.

Turning towards her with his natural elegance, she couldn't tell that he'd just had a scare. That was one thing about Richard Riddick, he recovered from his mistakes quickly.

Leaning against the counter top he crossed his arms over his chest. Putting one foot over the other. The boot tip resting on the floor. His silvered eyes clear of all emotion. All in all, a very Riddick pose. Cool, calm, collected with a slight twist of nonchalance thrown in for good measure. 

It would fool everyone but her.

"Don't forget what?"

She knew what he was doing. Playing the everything's-alright game. The opposite was true, but when he was in that kind of mood, there was nothing she could do. He would only explain, if he explained at all, when he was damn well and ready. She could only play along.

It didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

Lowering eyes, hoping he didn't see the anger and impatience in them, she started walking past him as she responded. "That I'm going to the cantina with Molly tonight."

She hadn't seen him move, (did she ever?) but suddenly her wrist was grabbed. He used it to pull her to him. Keeping it trapped between their two chests while his other hand wrapped around her neck.

"No."

Still breathless from being manhandled so efficiently, she took a few seconds to get her bearings. He'd said the one word quietly, but with a succinctness that left little room for argument. 

His eyes held a resolve to enforce his will that would've enraged her if she didn't know how much he loved her. But she'd be damned if he started dictating every little thing about her life.

Seeming to have grown taller, bigger and stronger, his body was doing its best to bolster the statement of his eyes. Trying to cower her into submission with his overpowering physical presence. 

It pissed her off royally. He hadn't tried that shit for years. Not since they'd become lovers. But arguing would only make him more intractable.

Raising an eyebrow, she pointedly stared at the hand holding her wrist.

Richard let her go, but it was with obvious reluctance. He'd gotten the message.

It was the same hand he'd shattered when she'd come between him and Miriam Gonzalez once before. Twenty-twenty hindsight told her she should've let him kill the crazy bitch. But her conscience had got the better of her. And all of them had paid the price.

The memories wiped away most of the anger at his heavy handedness. Leaving her sad and uneasy. She worried his reaction to the nightmares was some sort of delayed backlash to the horrifying torture Miriam had visited upon his body. He'd lost an eye, a lot of blood, and his dignity to that woman before Zar had found him. Physically he'd recovered, mentally, she was beginning to have serious doubts. 

She often wondered if he'd lost his edge. That part of him that made him so dangerous, so willing to do whatever was needed to survive. It just stood to reason that any man who once had been as determined to survive as Richard, then had practically let Miriam capture and torture him, all in the name of shame and guilt and hopelessness, would lose something vital to his psyche. 

Maybe that's what the dreams were all about. Manifestations of his loss of the killer instinct. Some part of him not happy with the softer, kinder more human Richard. And maybe that part of him blamed her for the softening. Which, in complete truth, was her responsibility. Would it be any wonder if he was in a major mental and emotional conflict?

All the worrying about him and his strange behavior was making her tired and bitchy. She needed a night out. Sometime away from him and his obsessive attention to the dreams. When nothing happened, and she was positive it wouldn't, hopefully he would relax some. 

Rubbing her face with the palms of both hands she blew out a frustrated breath. For once letting him see not just her worry, but also her impatience.

But she did love him, oh so much. And loving someone meant putting up with the bad as well as the good. So she reached up and cupped his face with her small hands before she spoke.

"Leave it go, love. I need to get out of here for a few hours. Laugh a little, talk with Molly a little, you know...enjoy myself. I know you don't mean to, but you're driving me crazy!

They were just dreams. Ugly nightmares, that's all! We can't live our lives based on bad dreams. It's just not..."

His eyes blared with desperation as he grabbed the hands cupping his face. Pushing her back against the wall a short distance behind her. He growled back at her, "They are NOT just dreams! They're...prophecies."

Zar stood momentarily speechless at his words. 

Prophecies?! 

Since when did a man like Richard B. Riddick believe in mumbo jumbo?! 

But it was obvious that he did. In his behavior, his face, his voice. His fear.

Richard watched the disbelief cross Zar's face. He didn't blame her for her reluctance. Hell, if the situation had been reversed his reaction would've been downright disrespectful. But that wasn't Zar's way.

Whatever her thoughts, he knew, with a soul deep certainty, that the dreams were more than just dreams. 

The first dream had Miriam as Zar's killer, the second was Johns. The third...that fucking horror of a phantasm...starred himself as the killer. Having the unique view as both watcher and doer. He could still feel the bile that had risen from his stomach upon waking from the dream. Could still feel her body stretched tight against his, the warmth of blood as it sprayed, the smells her body released in it's death. 

Curiously he wasn't worried about him killing her. He knew nothing, even his own life, could compel him to kill her. He'd also realized that the changing killer's meant that not one person was coming for her. No, it was a more general danger. That's why he'd been watching her. Why he didn't want her to go anywhere near the cantina. He didn't know where or when or who would try to kill her.

The visions could be warnings or they could be taunts. Maybe they were from God, from Hell or just a skull-fuck courtesy of his own twisted mind. 'Ha ha buddy, look what's going to happen to your precious Zar and there's not a thing you can do about it.'

They made him feel weak. He loathed feeling weak.

He sometimes felt they were also slowly making him into the crazy all the psych heads had labeled him. It felt like the world was spinning out of control. With him along for the ride. 

Zar wasn't helping matters any.

She obstinately refused to believe that the dreams were something other than dreams. She was a moderately spiritual woman. Believed in God, but had been the victim of His seemingly capricious whims one too many times to trust Him. In some ways, Richard had a deeper, if more hostile, belief in the Deity that seemed to take some sort of laughing delight in torturing him. 

Her lack of open-mindedness made it harder to protect her. The situation was adding frustration to the already volatile mix of dread and destiny that was tearing him apart.

Still gripping her wrists, he shook her lightly as he spoke with a deep edgy whisper, "For just one minute, one fucking minute, entertain the idea that these are more than just dreams! It's been the same EXACT scene every time! The only difference being who slices your throat.

Think back about Leffner and you in that service tunnel! I know I haven't exactly been talkative about it, but the doesn't change the fact that you and I have a deep connection. Something deeper than sex or just living together. 

You're the person I've been closest too in my whole fucked-up life! And I KNOW something is going to happen! Here I am trying to protect your silly ass and all you want to do is treat me like I'm some little piss ant with a severe case of post traumatic stress syndrome! 

I got news for you, lady! What Miriam did to me wasn't shit compared to what's been done before and what I've done to others."

Richard could feel the anger growing. It actually felt good. It burned some of the fear and frustration away. He knew it wasn't fair taking it out on her, but he couldn't seem to help it. He wanted to hit something, yell at something, make something as afraid of him as he was of the dreams. The log jam had broken, and it was all coming out, whether he wanted it to or not.

"You know what?! Fuck it! I can't protect you if you keep blocking me. I need your trust for that and evidently it's just too much for you to do right now."

He didn't stay around to watch her stumble slightly as he threw her hands away from him. He was across the room and out the door before she could come out the tirade induced stupor.

Zar, eyes still wide in disbelief, released the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. 

Murmuring to the empty room, still charged with their angry energy, "Oh, Richard. What are we going to do?!"


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

After the fight with Richard, going out was the last thing she felt like doing. Even though she did kind of want to talk to Molly. Not that she could fill her in completely. But at least they could have one Hell of a good man-bashing, tequila-downing, bitch fest. It felt right and at the same time wrong to cancel the night out. Right because she was too damn tired to party, wrong because she felt like she was letting him and his fucking "prophecy" rule how she lived her life.

By the time her shift was done, she was exhausted. More mentally than physically. But it all felt the same...shitty.

So shitty that upon finding the apartment depressingly empty (she had no idea why she expected him to be home, but it hurt just the same) Zar barely had enough energy to take a bathroom stop, strip and fall in bed. No dinner, no shower, do not pass go...go straight to jail. Or oblivion, which ever came first. Oblivion won.

The dream started out nice enough. Audrey, Hill, Richard and herself on a picnic. The sky was blue, the air warm but breezy, the Sun hot and bright. The tree shading their blanket and food was a sturdy old oak surrounded by what seemed miles of green, green grass. Audrey was climbing the tree, Hill was cooing on his back. Blowing bubbles as he discovered that he had toes. She was leaning her back up against the tree, with Richard's head on her lap. 

He looking up at her with normal brown eyes. Smiling at her with a smile that would never in reality touch his face. It was too relaxed. The open smile of a man with nothing to be ashamed of, a man with an easy ability to laugh. A man who hadn't been skull fucked by Fate. He was reaching for the back of her neck to bring her face down to his for a kiss.

Instantly his eyes changed to the shining orbs of reality. The sky turned dark and threatening. The gentle breeze became furious and cold. His hand had tightened painfully on her neck so that she couldn't look around for Audrey and Hill.

His smile became a sick, deep laugh of mockery. Laughing derisively at her terror. He brought her mouth down to his. Invaded it with his tongue coarsely. Grabbed a handful of her hair to keep her anchored to him. He bit her lip and she tasted blood. Heard and felt the heart in her chest beat frantically as she tried to twist free.

He released her mouth and let her lift her head a few inches. Smiling Riddick's scary smile as he taunted her, "See Zar, told you it was more than just a nightmare."

She came out the nightmare violently. And nearly pissed herself when she saw the shadow sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. Her terrorized brain needing a few extra seconds to differentiate the dream from reality.

It was only Richard. 

Holy shit! It was Richard!

For five seconds she was back in the terror of her dream. But then reality came blissfully to the rescue. Whoever or whatever Richard was, he wasn't the man in the dream. Of that she had no doubt. It was just her worry for him manifesting itself in the warped way unconsciousness does.

"Richard...what's wrong?"

He was just sitting there. In the harsh green light of the wall clock lit room it was hard for her tell, but since she couldn't see his reflective eyes, she figured he wasn't looking at her. Rather it seemed he sat with his elbows on his thighs, hands hanging between his legs. His head slightly bowed. 

He must've felt her body jump as she came out the nightmare, if not hear her loudly beating heart. But he hadn't made any gesture to acknowledge that he was even aware of her being in the same room.

An air of sadness swelled around him. Stripped of his protective shell of danger, he seemed lost. It made her forgive the fight of earlier and the brutality of his nightmare doppelganger. Resentment and hurt were replaced with compassion and a desire to take away his pain.

She guessed it was the litmus test of true love. She hoped she passed. For both of theirs sake.

Raising to her knees, she made her way across the bed. Then encircled his naked back with her body. Her arms wrapping around his hair dusted stomach. Resting her cheek lightly against his shoulder blade, she concentrated on giving him time to tell her what he needed to. Felt the strong beat of his heart next to her breast, the warmth of his skin as it transferred itself to hers, the rise and fall of his stomach muscles as he breathed in and out.

She could feel the blackness of hopelessness trying to fill him. Not the ugly black of evil, but the drugging, soul destroying, joy stealing ink of despair. 

Damned is she was going to let it have him without a fight.

For long minutes they stayed that way. Lovers entwined in silent commiseration with each other. Till finally the darkness of the heart was forced to leave, if just for the time God allotted to happiness and desire.

Lifting her face, she started to press small kisses to where her cheek had rested. At the same time, her hands began wandering over the flesh of his torso. Lightly drifting over his well defined abs and lats. 

She wanted her loving to be a gift. Not just of desire, but of forgiveness, of endurance...of strength of get through whatever they had to get through.

Lightly grabbing her hands, he turned his head towards hers as he asked, "Do you ever think of Hill and Audrey?"

What the Hell had brought that on?!

The question threw her. Coming so close on the heels of her dream, it rattled her more than it normally would've. They rarely talked about the kids. An unspoken acknowledgement that brining up a subject over which they could do nothing would only cause pain.

Laying her cheek against his back once more, she thought about what she should tell him. Would telling him about the dream only freak him out more? If she lied, he'd know it, probably leading to an even bigger problem. Seems she had little choice in the matter.

"Yeah...I do. I was having a dream about them just now. I've had others. When I'm awake, they slip in. To be completely honest, I usually think about them at least once a day." Shrugging as if it were no big deal, she quietly whispered, "I miss them."

She felt the deep breath he took as he let her hands go. Reaching around with his own hand to rest on her hip. A brief gesture of comfort.

"They come to me too. I think about what kind of life they would've had if I hadn't been in it. What you're life would've been like."

The self-derision in his voice made her tighten her arms in reaction.

Fierce love and loyalty overflowed her voice when she spoke back, "They'd both be dead if it weren't for you! Audrey never would've survived Taurus 2 without you. And you kept Leffner from getting Hill. Richard, no matter what violence we...yes, I said 'we'...brought into their lives, we also brought love and happiness. 

Sending them to Imam was the best thing we could've done for them, under the circumstances. But that doesn't mean their time with us was a bad thing. There were a lot of happy times on Polaris. Something they didn't have...I didn't have... much of before."

She received no response to her passionate rebuttal of his self-directed loathing. The silence stretched with just the gentle breathing of both breaking it. 

Her need to comfort couldn't be contained any longer. He was too wrapped up in his nightmare's hideous promise. Too much of a deep thinker to let it go. He needed distraction. 

He needed her.

She pleaded with him. All the frustration of the last weeks making her voice hoarse. Rising slightly, pressing her breasts against his back, she kissed the spot just beneath his ear, begging, "Please don't push me away. We're all the other has. I love you, need you. I know you feel the same. Don't let whatever has it's claws in you win."

Taking her arms from around his waist, she ran them over his sides, up to his shoulders. Massaging muscle's tightened by stress and work. Slowly they started to relax. His skin growing warmer under her fingers. 

She rarely took the lead in their lovemaking. It wasn't her style, and being in control was his. But desperate times called for a change in attitudes. Hell, she'd fuck him the middle of the cantina if it would take the hopelessness and fear from his mind.

Bending her mouth to his moist skin, she started to lick and lightly bite a path across his shoulders then down his back. Taking her time, hoping the soft caresses did the job her words couldn't seem to accomplish.

His body was so beautiful. Strong, large and exquisitely roped with muscles honed to perfection by the hard work of the mines. Touching him came so easy. A joy to be able to revel in the power and strength that was so much a part of his physical presence. Each time she touched his body, it was like exploring a fine piece of art she never expected to own. It made her giddy to think that he was all hers. That she could touch him, taste him, feel him inside of her any time she pretty much wanted. 

His breath had hitched as she brought her hands once more around his waist. Softly running them over his hair covered chest. Passing over his sensitive nipples with a light stroke that meant to entice and inflame. Smiling, she felt his heart start to pound, his skin moisten with need.

Her fingers traveled slowly down his waist. Tickling with just the tips in the crevasse where hip met thigh. Knowing he expected her to take him in her hand, she instead ran her palms over his rough haired thighs. The movement made her nipples harden against his back. She felt her own breathing and heart rate speed up with the deepening contact. The heavy congestion between her thighs making her more in sympathy with his needs. 

Taking just a small amount of pity on him, she ran her fingertips lightly over his erection. Trailing down to the sacks beneath.

His breath left him in a grunt. He'd all the teasing he could take.

Taking her hands in his, he pulled her off the bed and swung her around to set her on her feet before him. Zar felt a small, but deep, surge of triumph at the look in his silvered eyes. There was nothing there but desire for her. No fear, no dejection, no sense of doom. The only thoughts in his mind was for her and her body. And how he could take possession of both in the shortest amount of time. 

Being so long of body in comparison to her shortness, her breasts came just at his eye level. Bringing her in between his thighs, he captured one nipple between his lips. Sucking hard and applying a small bite just deep enough to bring a twinge of pleasure pain.

Gripping his shoulders at the onslaught of pleasure, Zar's head fell back. Her hips unconsciously arching closer to him. 

Letting her nipple slip from his mouth, he ran his hands down her flanks. Stopping to massage her hips as his mouth licked slowly down her stomach to play in her belly button. Then running them over her buttocks and down into the chasm that separated the globes. Dipping into the well that was filling with the evidence of her desire for him.

Briefly he played his fingers over her. In her. Enjoying the little sounds of need she couldn't contain as he invaded her body with his fingers. Setting up a deep rhythm of in and out. Making sure to brush against the nub that was distended with hunger.

He felt her body clamp around his fingers. Her legs starting to shake with the effort to keep standing. Removing his fingers, he forced her legs apart then lifted her into his arms. Bringing her wet heat flush against his belly then letting her slide down in a excruciatingly slow path to his lap. Her legs hanging over his thighs to kneel precariously on the bed, her body impaled by his flesh.

Her gasp sounded loud in the room as she convulsively grabbed his shoulders for support. Louder even than their labored breathing. It made him feel like a god. It made the darkness go away. It made the future look bright. It made him want to fight for what would always be his. In life or death. She was his. In short, it made him want to live. With her, forever.

Fuck the dream, screw Fate, bite me God. He'd kill any one or any thing that tried to take her away from him. Or take it down with him.

Enclosing her face within his large palms he brought her mouth to his, plunging his tongue fiercely into the sweet cavity. Dueling with her more than willing tongue as he felt her lower body start to move against his. 

Ripping his mouth from hers, he reached for her breasts. They watched each others eyes as their bodies did the ancient dance. Zar could feel the orgasm coming on fast. It was stripping her of her will. Her eyes began to close when the heady electrifying heat started to rush over her nerve endings. 

"No! Keep your eyes open. I want to watch you come."

Forcing her eyes to stay open doubled the pleasure. Racing it over and in her body. 

Reaching one hand to where her wet curls met his, he flicked her swollen clitoris. 

"Scream for me. Scream my name. Let them know who they have to go through to get to you."

His name reverberated throughout the dark bedroom as her body convulsed on his. Followed quickly by his growling "Mine. Forever." as he emptied his essence into her.

Her head collapsed onto his shoulder. The hard loving having wiped out her strength momentarily. Wrapping his arms around her, he felt the his world tilt back on it's normal axis. Where before, for weeks, he'd been almost disoriented and paralyzed with fear for her, now he knew what needed to be done. And God help whatever, or whoever, came to take her away from him. It would find him more than it's match, he promised both himself and the woman in his arms.

The master of the skull-fuck was back.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"You ready?"

"Yeah...you?"

"Affirmative. Everything check's out. The area's clear, let's get in position."

The two men avoided each other's eyes as they ran a checklist on their weapons. Knives, garrotes, restraints, hypo's filled with both poison and fast acting sedatives. The checklist was routine. The evasion wasn't.

They'd been sent on other assassination's. It had forged a bond of affinity between them. They were a well oiled killing machine who could almost sense each others thoughts. Too ruthless and cold to call each other 'friend', they nevertheless knew each other well. 

Killing, quietly and efficiently, was their job. They'd taken out plenty of military targets. But nothing of this sort. Killing civies, especially a woman civie, just wasn't sitting right with either soldier. But General Bieti had left no room for doubt, or hesitation, in his instructions.

Take up positions as passed out drunks across from the cantina and lie in wait for the couple seen and memorized in a hologram provided by the General. Once their identities were without question, the two-man infiltration squad was to 'dispose' of the couple with the least amount of mess and noise. If they situation wasn't resolved within thirty seconds into the attack, they were to request back up. A transmitter sewn into their jackets their mode of communication with Bieti and Bigsby.

Seeing the man in the hologram, the two could entertain the idea that he could be dangerous. Considering themselves good judges of people on sight, due to their many missions for the General, they recognized right off the bat the man's aura of menace. 

The woman looked, and 'felt', harmless. But theirs was not to question why. They were Bieti's own private clean-up crew. They took care of General Bieti, and he took care of them. Money, sex in whatever form they wanted, and all the drugs they could do. He turned a blind eye to all of their extracurricular activities as long as they got the job done.

They weren't given the names of the targets. Just allowed to view the hologram. That was all they really needed anyway.

As they hunkered down in the alley waiting for the couple to come out, both felt a ripple of unease shiver its way down their spines. Something didn't feel right. They knew Bieti's agenda wasn't always the ASF's. But the officer always got away with it. Could this unease be a premonition of the first time he wasn't going to slick his way through?

Didn't really matter though. If they didn't do the 'job', Bieti's payback would be phenomenal. People had a habit of disappearing after disappointing the General.

Long minutes had passed since taking up their positions. They had sabotaged the lighting in the alley as a precaution. That, along with the asteroids simulated 'natural' low lighting provided their murky cover.

They watched as various people went in and out of the cantina. 

The targets had been in the establishment for over three hours. It wouldn't be long before they called it a night.

Five minutes later Zar and Richard, along with Esker and Amy, walked out the lightweight steel doors of the cantina. He in his normal black, she in a dark gray cotton top and pants. She looked sleepy, he just looked in a state of relaxed nastiness. A snake sunning itself lazily on a rock was no less dangerous than the one hissing at you. 

Black goggles, a sure sign in this gloom of having been optically altered, hid his eyes as he walked with his arm around her shoulders. Their pace was slow, but steady. Their momentum due to his arm around her shoulder propelling her forward. The other couple followed loosely behind. Talking and kissing.

Richard didn't like being here. Period. How in the Hell Zar had talked him into coming here...well, must've been the sex the night before. But what sounded cool the night before, when Zar had suggested their outing with Esker and Amy, now sounded, and felt, downright stupid. 

The alley leading from cantina seemed darker than normal. Something was seriously off. He could smell it, as well as he could smell the spicy food Zar had indulged in clinging to her clothes. That itchy feeling on the back of his neck, the one that he come to trust implicitly, was kicking up something fierce.

Scanning the area carefully, he couldn't pick up on anything. There weren't that many people around. Just a couple of drunks sleeping it off on the alley floor. But still...

He made a conscious effort to speed Zar up. She smiled with heavy lidded eyes up at him. Staggering more from lack of sleep than booze.

He felt the movement behind him only seconds before he heard the unmistakable sound of a something sharp sinking into flesh. 

Instinctively he pushed Zar behind him. Hearing her grunt as she fell to the ground from the force of his push and her uncoordinated state. He hoped she would be less of a target closer to the ground.

His night vision assessed the situation instantly. Amy was dead, staring sightless at the ceiling. A pool of blood spreading from the deep slash at her throat. A throat made useless for making cries of pain or warning. Esker was grappling with the other 'drunk.' But it was a loosing battle, for even as Richard started backing up to prepare to grab Zar and get her out of there, Esker was gutted from stomach to sternum. His intestines and stomach making a slippery sucking noise as they slithered from his body. His eyes wide with disbelief even as they started to cloud with death.

Twenty seconds from the start of the attack, Esker and Amy were dead. Their deaths had been fast, silent and complete. The two assassins turning towards him and Zar.

Right away Richard could tell he was dealing with professionals. He knew he could handle them...if he'd been by himself. But with Zar there, his options were limited. From the example of the other couple's death, it was obvious they weren't in the alley for robbery or rape. They were there to deal death. To him and Zar.

He caught the quick look the two exchanged as they circled in. A well rehearsed signal of some sort. They were moving in for the kill. Their knives dulled from blood, poised to add more. 

Automatically he took up a defensive fighting position. Ripping the goggles from his eyes. The shiv, never far from reach, appearing magically in his hand. Placing himself between the killers and Zar, who was still on the ground, trying to come to grips with what was going on. 

Zar watched helplessly as the killers came toward them. All sleepiness had been wiped from her mind. To be replaced with heart pounding confusion and terror. 

Time had seemed to bizarrely slow down. She'd been walking sleepily with Richard's arm around her shoulders, then in a flash she was on the ground. It seemed as if Esker and Amy had been walking behind them days ago instead of the minute it was. Now they were dead, their blood and flesh mixing as they lay next to each other. 

The attack had left her breathless, disabled. The viciousness of it bringing back memories, and panic, from the past. Stunned, she sat on the ground. And probably would've stayed there if not for hearing Richard's voice. 

"Zar, get up and behind me now." His voice was calm and deep with menace.

Seeing at how her position made it hard for him to protect her, she quickly got to her shaking legs and carried out his instructions. Lightly touching his back to let him know she was there where he wanted her.

She vaguely considered screaming, but the culture of the mining colony wasn't one of civic concern over crime. People would as likely turn a blind eye than help.

He had a shiv while she had nothing. And these two were obviously more than drunks out to make a bloody buck. She realized quickly that she was more of a hindrance to Richard than a help. He had to worry about protecting both her and himself, dividing his attention to a disadvantage. Maybe she could even the odds a bit. Both of the killers seemed intent on him, so she slowly started to back away, down the alley. 

But with snake quickness the one on the left switched his eyes to her, freezing her in her tracks.

Richard weighed his options. His fingers itched to attack, but his common sense held him back. If he attacked, Zar would be left open. 

Just then one made a movement with his head. Moved his mouth close to the raggedy collar that edged his decrepit coat. A small metallic gleam caught Richard's eye.

A text book military action. 

They were calling in back up!

Ambush!!!

They were being fucking ambushed by the ASF!

The reality of the situation hit him like a blow between the eyes. Someone knew who he was, and wanted him dead. Along with whoever was with him. 

Miriam Gonzalez must've given her info to them. The bitch was probably watching somewhere. Salivating over his and Zar's imminent death.

They had to get out of there now. Before the reinforcements arrived. 

Talking his way out was not an option. Both murderer's had the frigid, calm eyes of practiced hitmen. Bullshitting just wasn't going to cut it. They were only leery of him and his shiv, not afraid. 

He saw that Esker's and Amy's combined blood was slowly seeping towards the heels of the attacker's. Blood was slippery.

The alley had been eerily quiet through out the double murder and stand-off. A little noise to spook, a little element of surprise, and he and Zar might just have a chance of getting out the alley.

He howled and rushed them at the same time. His deep, rage filled voice slicing through the early 'morning' air, raising the hair on Zar's arms. She'd never heard such a sound before. 

The two had been unprepared for the strategy and took a couple of steps back into the blood. Falling flat on their backs as their heels made contact with the slimy body fluids.

Richard was one of them in seconds. Sliding to his knees while still howling and rushing, he caught one behind the knees with the shiv while he was still falling. The assassins blood adding to the gore already on the floor. The grunt of pain mixing with the air rushing from his lungs as his body hit the floor. 

Richard landed on top of his victim. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second killer gain his knees. Knowing his back was vulnerable, he quickly switched positions. Flipping the man under him to on top of him. Preventing the other from attacking. 

To Zar it seemed as if the two bodies struggled for control forever, but it was only seconds before she heard a death gurgle. 

Dear God! Was it Richard?! Or the assassin?!

Suddenly her view was blocked by the form of the other killer moving towards her. Absently she noted that he had blue eyes. Almost the same colors as hers. But with a degree of determination to kill and coldness that had never been a part of her.

Zar started backing up, trying to put as much space between them as she could. Praying, screaming in her mind for Richard to still be alive. Knowing that if Richard was dead, so was she. And realizing she didn't really care to live if he was dead.

The shiv had sank deep into his groin. The cut upward to his throat like a knife through butter. The strength of it's user making the obstacle of bones and muscle a non-issue. The jerking of his body announcing death's winning's.

He was dead before Richard pulled the weapon out of the throat. The life leaving his eyes as quickly as the blood leaving his body.

Rolling the dead man off him, Richard saw where the other was headed. Straight for Zar.

He'd gained his feet and was rushing toward the woman. Not willing to waste time by waiting to see who won the battle between the man and his partner, the other killer knew there was no way he could take on Richard hand to hand. He had to have leverage. The woman would stop the man from attacking. Make him vulnerable.

She looked understandably shaky and dazed. So much blood and death. The almost sure fact of her lover's death. The knowledge of her own impending end. He guessed she was going into shock. 

Easy picking's. But he didn't smile in triumph. It was just a job. Another ugly job for the General. Maybe when he and his partner were done with this assignment they would find a way to leave Bieti far behind. Hey, everyone had to have a dream.

He made it to within three feet of her. 

The shiv imbedded in his neck, sticking out of his mangled throat. He hadn't heard the man come up behind him. With his last bit of strength he turned around and saw that the man was right there. The eerie glow of his eyes burning within inches of his dying ones.

What he saw there was death. His sure and imminent death.

Richard grabbed the shiv by the hilt. Turning it slowly. Inflicting untold pain on the killer. 

The blackness had hold of the brutal escapee now. The urge to kill those who would attack him and his.It welled up and took control of his reactions. Demanding vengeance. Demanding pain be repaid a thousand fold. The coldness of hate filling him. It had sank it's teeth in him at the first sight of the blood of the dead lovers who had called him and Zar friend. Gnawed to the bone when he'd seen the second killer stalking Zar.

The man was making the motions of crying out in pain. But his voice box had been sliced in two. Only the gurgle of blood coming from his lips made any discernible noise.

Seeing the assassin would be unable to give him any kind of answers, he ended it. Turning the shiv so that it now lay horizontal with the chin. A quick flip of his powerful wrist and the weapon sliced free from the left side of the man's throat. Leaving him partially decapitated.

The body slid heavily to the ground, after spraying him with more blood. Adding to the coating he'd already received from both rolling around in the couples blood, and then from killing the other. Flecks of it covered his face and arms. Patches gleamed wetly over the rest of his body. Only the black of his clothes stopping it from being readily identifiable as being blood.

He turned his cold gaze to Zar. She was backed up against the wall. Hands splayed flat against it. Her mouth open with her labored breathing. Her eyes devouring him. His very alive self.

The fear and shock left her. Leaving weak, but also freeing her to launch herself into his arms. Reassured that she wasn't hallucinating by the strength of his arms surrounding her tightly.

"Oh God! I was so sure he'd killed you. So sure..."

The cold look left his eyes as he felt her shiver. The warmth of her body transferring itself to his. Bringing him back once again from the edge of his soul's oblivion.

Framing her face, he forced her head back from his chest. Kissing her deeply. Tasting blood and the cold saliva of fear. The smooth/rough flesh of her tongue, the softness of her lips. Her breath becoming his. Reassuring himself that they were both alive. Pushing the coldness back into it's little hole.

But time was precious. The killer's had called for back up. There wasn't much time to be wasted.

She looked sadly at Esker and Amy's body. Sorrow making a ball form in her throat. Tears welling in her eyes. She didn't know what made her grieve more, their deaths, or her growing ability to accept the carnage in her life.

Richard watched her face. A small part sympathizing with her pain, the larger part screaming at him to get her out of there.

"We have to go. Now. The ASF isn't far behind."

Zar nodded weakly. He had just confirmed her own theory. Miriam had forgone the reward and was now out for revenge. They would have to run again. But this time at least they were both healthy.

"Where should we go?"

"The mines. There are some unused shafts. It'll be rough..."

Wiping the blood off his cheek, she smiled at him. It had felt like an eternity since she last had smiled. 

"Not as rough as being without you"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

She knew they'd only been running for a few hours, but it felt like days. Hard to gauge the passing of time once they got into the actual mines themselves.

And running wasn't the complete truth. They hadn't actually 'run' at all in an effort to avoid the ASF. 

Leaving the mutilated bodies of both friend and foe behind, Richard led her through a variety of dark hiding places. Slowly, quietly and as unobtrusively as possible. But never running. Hell, they didn't even break a sweat.

With her small hand in his large one, he took her through all the little used areas of Dee 7. Only using more well traveled areas when absolutely necessary. 

Watching had been an education into the mind and abilities of one the most feared men ever hunted. He hadn't hesitated at one corner or any corridor. He knew, instinctively or from experience, exactly how and where they were going. She kind of thought it was instinct. Unless he'd been a very busy boy in the few months they'd been on Dee 7, there was no other way he could know all the back ways.

He loved the dark areas the most. She could tell. It was like he was a dismembered piece of mercury and the dark was his mother glob. He rushed towards it smoothly and determinedly. Mingling his senses with the whatever else inhabited the shadows. Comfortable in the knowledge that he was more scarier than any other boogie monster they could run into.

And after seeing him dispatch the two men in the alley way, she could only agree. She had a deeper understanding now as to why he insisted he was unredeemable. He took life with no equivocation. If it was a threat to him or his, it was dead. Simple as that. No hesitation, no mercy, no conscience. He dealt death quickly, efficiently, resolutely.

It made her very glad he was on her side.

There hadn't even been time to think. Just keep moving. She wasn't sure Richard was doing it on purpose, to keep her from thinking about how their lives had gone to shit. Or if he was just so used to running that the emotional trauma of it no longer occurred to him. 

If it was the former, well, it wasn't working. The tears that had been hammered down due to shock were threatening mightily. It wasn't the idea that they were stuck on an asteroid being hunted by a ruthless military. It was the fact that more friends, more people she'd opened her heart to, were gone. Those important to her, it seemed they must disappear. Her parents, Lloyd, Beth, Audrey, Jack, Hill, Amy...they all were permanently lost to her.

The one constant in her life was Richard.

A voice whispered in her ear as she made her way behind him in the dark service tunnels that led to the unused mines. If everyone left, either through death or distance, how much longer would she have him? They'd managed to survive Brenner and Gonzalez, and the bloody attack just hours ago. But she couldn't escape the feeling that the clock was ticking. 

She felt his warm hand clasping hers. His step never faltering through all the twists and turns. His strength both comforting and mocking her. Like her, he never had any long term friends or family. Some of it was of his own choice. Some of it enforced by his past and the lifestyle it thrust upon him. 

Whatever the reason, it made him stronger. While she felt herself getting weaker with each loss. Losing her grip on the secret inner core of steel that had always been there for her through each tragedy. The rod that would let her bend, but not break. It was getting wet with blood and tears, making her grip slippery and unsure. The abyss of...Hell...whatever was down 'there' under the steel rod, looming.

Threatening...and...beckoning.

Great shudders began to rip through her as walked. Tears, desolation, rage and hopelessness twined together to form a sharp weapon of tearing and destruction. Coming up from a hard rock in her stomach to sit in her aching throat.

Unable to go any further with the turmoil inside her, she let go of Richard's hand. Too wrapped in her own little Hell to think about getting separated from him in the dark. With his eyes, he would find her anyway. Feeling the wall at her back, she slowly slid down to sit on the ground. Her control over her emotions gone.

He knew the exact moment she started crying. He could smell the salt of her tears wafting to him on the small eddy's of air that accompanied them in the tunnels. Felt the tremors of her hand in his. Her skin grow cold as the minutes, and the distance, passed.

He'd gone on a few feet after she'd let go of his hand. Unable to handle her grief. Refusing to let himself touch her while in his current state in his mind. The consequences could be painful for her. Lord knows he'd hurt her before when enraged at others.

The heady adrenaline-releasing mixture of escape and killing making him edgy and pumped. The familiar blend bringing back old habits and attitudes. The instinct to viscously dispose of any weakness pounding through the back of his mind. He knew her shock was wearing off, but fuck, they didn't have time for this! 

They were coming. He could feel it in the air. The hairs on the back of his neck raising in warning. His eyes keyed to see any tell tale movement. Nothing had shown up, but he knew the ASF was on it's way. Those assholes hadn't been communicating with Santa Claus, that was for fucking sure.

He thought that if she was going to break, it would've been when both of their lives were in immediate danger, or facing the sight of Esker's and Amy's cruelly mauled bodies. Not when they were relatively safe. But it didn't come as a complete surprise. He'd seen soldier's face down the scariest shit ever, then go nuts once their blood pressure, and the danger, went to a lower level. Strong at the time of the greatest pressure, but weak later on.

He recognized that under the annoyance was also a little bit of uneasiness. Had his life finally caught up with her? Broken her? Had the essence of evil that seemed to pervade his existence wormed it's way into her heart and soul? Was the strongest person he'd ever known brought down by one loss too many? The straw that breaks the camel's back. 

Coming to a stop, he leaned on the wall and rested his forehead against it. Confident she couldn't see him. The night, Hell, the weeks!... catching up to him. Zar's break down the catalyst for the cracking in his own heart.

Her soft weeping was getting to him. The mild anger and impatience evaporating in need to comfort and console the woman he loved. 

In the moment outside the cantina when he decided to run, with her, he knew it was going to be rough. And to be honest with at least himself, the idea of leaving her behind had popped up. Old habits again. 

He'd had harder escapes. But with only himself to think of. Now he had Zar. A very emotionally beaten Zar. She was as much a target as he was judging by the tactics of the two killers. Anyone and everyone giving him the least advantage had to die. The message was clear.

Being emotional now just wasn't going to cut it. Wasn't going to get them out this situation. Time was running out. They had to get to the mines. Once there it would be easier to hide. Take advantage of the hidey holes the ran through out the various tunnels.

The wall where he was resting his head vibrated slightly. Unnoticeable to most, but a dead giveaway to his Profearaben enhanced senses. 

They were here.

Crouching down, he rested his finger tips against the floor. Slow seconds ticking by as he tried to gauge how close, how much time.

Maybe ten minutes behind he and Zar. Way too fucking close for comfort!

Moving silently to her softly weeping form he cautioned himself not to just yank her and run. Though that was exactly what his instincts were screaming at him to do. 

She looked so defeated slumped against the wall. Knees drawn up to her chest, head held in hands while soft sobs tore through her.

But there was nothing he could do now. Just hope to keep them alive long enough to deal with her grief later.

"Zar, we have to go. They're coming. Come on...get up!"

She knew he was trying to be gentle as he raised her to her feet. Snapping her out of her tears with a soft shake. Could feel the barely held in check desire to run vibrating through him. And loved him even more for taking the precious seconds to let her get her bearings.

"Okay. I'm ready."

Linking hands, they started to run. The need for distance out weighing the need for quiet. His long strides forcing her to run twice as fast to keep up.

She could hear them behind her. The sound of soldier's boots slapping against the corridor floor. They too had given up stealth. The knowledge that their prey was within minutes of being captured encouraging them to push harder.

Suddenly Richard took a sharp left. She could see a lighted set of bars at the end of the corridor. Beyond it she could just make out the rough walls of a mine entrance. It was unmanned, which meant it was abandoned.

Reaching the bars, Richard yanked futilely. Swearing at the endurance of the old bars. Spotting a control panel to the right he quickly punched it. Bloodying his hand the smashed cover. His fingers danced as they tried to bypass the locking mechanism. Knowing there were only a few precious minutes before the attack team was on them. 

A part of his mind contemplating the impossible as he feverishly worked. He might have to kill her. Better him breaking her neck than being torn apart by the ASF. And that would only be after she was forced to watch his equally ugly death at their hands. Would she hate him for it in her last seconds of life? Or would she understand?

The questions became moot because suddenly the bars slid back. A smile of hope crossed his lips. The first in hours. It felt good to have hope. Something his woman had taught him.

"We're in. Hold on a minute. I'm going to leave a little surprise for them."

He didn't notice that she didn't respond.

Going through the doorway he again smashed open a cover to the matching control panel on the other side. Fiercely concentrating on the wires. Knowing he had little time.

Zar watched him from where she still stood on the finished side. 

She loved him so much. He'd brought, by far, more good into her life than bad. At least she felt so. He probably didn't.

It would rip her heart from her chest to leave him. But it would be only a temporary pain. Death by the ASF would ensure it's brevity. 

Because she knew as surely as she breathed that she would get Richard killed if she stayed with him. They could die painful death's together, or she could give him time to get away and die by herself. She refused to lose another loved one. For once, she would die for them. Maybe that was the breakdown in the corridor had been about. Her heart convincing her soul what needed to be done.

As she walked towards the open doorway, Richard flashed her a quick determined glance. 

Her hand shook as she gently pushed at the closing mechanism. 

The bars separated them now. The living and the soon to be dead.

Richard cursed as the door slammed shut, "Fuck! I'll get you out, just hold tight." Thinking he had somehow tripped the closing mechanism, he worked frantically at the panel's wires. Grateful for Zar's calmness.

The panel suddenly exploded in sparks and smoke. Small flames shooting from the charred wires.

Panic set in his heart instantaneously. She was trapped!

Going to the bars he grabbed them in a frenzy, yanking with all his great strength. Praying to God and whoever else wanted a piece of him to let the doors fucking open!

Just don't leave her at the mercy of the ASF!

Her small hands closed over his stilling his efforts. Meeting her eyes was one of the hardest things he ever remembered doing.

But they weren't filled with fear, they were filled with love.

It was then he knew. She'd done it on purpose. Cut them off from each other so that he could escape. Setting herself up as a bloody distraction for the ASF.

"God! Why?! Don't you trust me to get us out of this? I've been through fucking worse Zar!"

She could hear the soldiers now. They had maybe five minutes before they arrived.

Reaching her hand through the bars, she carressed his face. Glad to be able to touch one last time. Promising herself that as she drew her last breath, it would be with the memory of this moment in her mind and heart.

"It has nothing to do with trust. I'm not stupid Richard. I know I'm going to get you killed if I stay. You can get away so much better with out me. If you're honest with yourself, you know I'm right. And I'd rather die than help them kill you. Other than Beth, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I wouldn't have traded the last two years for anything. Thank you, my love. 

"Now, go! Get out of here. There's nothing you can do. And I don't want to you to see..."

Silent tears began to fall from her eyes. Ripping him apart so that he leaned his face into her hand. His chest heaving, burdened with unshed tears that would never come. 

She was sacrificing herself for him. Just like Carolyn Fry. What could he possible be worth for two people to be willing to make the ultimate offering? When Carolyn had died he found a chance of redemption. If this was God's way of moving him further along into the human race, he didn't want the fucking favor.

A part of him said stay. Die with her. But another part of him, the part that managed to keep him alive through numerous missions, escapes and attacks told him not to be a fool. The part that had made him survive even when he thought he wanted to be dead. It told him 'Don't let her death be for nothing.'

Reaching through the bars, he brought her face to his. Kissing her violently. Hoping to seal the taste and texture of her on his brain forever.

The soldiers were at the end of the corridor. In thirty seconds they would be at the doorway. He had a few precious moments to fill up with memories for the rest of his God forsaken life. 

She pulled her face from his hands as she felt the soldiers running approach. "Go! Richard, for pity's sake, go!"

"Stop! Don't move by order of the Alliance Security Forces!"

Like a ghost he drifted back from her. His shining eyes never leaving her face as the darkness ate him up. He back stepped until he was sure the blackness would be impregnable. 

Stopping only to watch as they swarmed over her. Her precious body surrounded by black uniforms, soon disappearing altogether. 

Only closing his eyes and turning his back when he heard her scream.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

He took a quick inventory of the woman as she lay unconscious on the floor. Her body had curled into a fetal position defensively against the cold of the room and the aches leftover from the rough handling. The blood on the corner of her mouth had dried and was now cracking. Her breathing seemed normal, if misty from the rooms chill. But she was pale, very pale. Every freckle standing out, her light brown lashes looking almost black against the ashen skin.

When Gonzalez had described her, he thought her commentary had been colored by her hatred of all things, and people, having to do with Richard Riddick. But in this case, with just a slight softening adjustment, she'd been right on the mark.

While he wouldn't go so far as to call Zarifa Cholena "dumpy", she was not glamorous in the least. Short and on the plumb side, with nothing outstanding about her physical appearance. Seemed very soft with a "girl next door" feel about her...the antithesis of what Riddick usually fucked. But who knew, maybe she gave good head. 

Alphonse Bieti understood that people's physical appearance rarely matched their personality. He himself being an excellent case in point. At seventy, many believed him the grandfatherly type. Only his frosty eyes gave a clue to his true character. And when needed, he could mask the lack of human warmth that so permeated his soul.

For the many years he had kept Riddick under surveillance, it seemed the two shared the lack of any sympathy towards their fellow human being. All he had to do was look at the brutal killings and beatings over the years perpetrated by the ex-ASF man. They went way beyond a kill or be killed need or the actions of a man doing what was needed to escape an equally brutal penal system. No, Richard Riddick had shown a real flare for torture and terror.

Bieti had almost felt regret when he gave the order for Riddick to be killed before he reached Slam City after his last escape. But he'd become too much of a loose cannon. Something had to be done. Unfortunately, Bigsby had fucked it up. The Hunter-Gratzner had been sabotaged, but not lethally. Riddick, and some of those unlucky enough to be his traveling companions, had survived the crash. It could have been hoped that the creatures on Taurus 2 would do the job. But the bastard was just to tough to kill.

No matter...the situation would be resolved in due time.

Rubbing his fingers against the softness of the unconscious woman's cheek, he still could find no overt reason for Riddick's passion. Nonetheless, there had to be some reason why Riddick allowed himself to become attached to her. For a man who'd been the personification of the word "loner" his whole life, he exhibited every behavior typical of a man who loved a woman. 

And the general had seen that behavior first hand. He had Riddick under surveillance for the last week. Other than within his apartment, his every action was recorded and reported to Bieti by a dozen spies. Bieti had even contemplated "bugging" the couple's abode, with only the sure knowledge that Riddick's keen sense of smell and uncanny instinct for the "not quite right" that would let him know if someone unauthorized had been in the rooms, kept him from carrying out the plan. 

Locating Riddick and Cholena had taken a few weeks. Longer than the general had expected. But the repeated escapee had known how to cover his tracks. And hiding within a Sargimite operation like the Delightful system, had been an act that Bieti actually admired for it's sheer brilliance and audacity. Most fugitives would've gone "underground." Ensuring as little contact with their fellow man as possible. Trying to hide in isolation.

But Riddick had been smarter than that. A pimple on the back side of the galaxy, with hundred's of "shined" eyed men, little to nil serious law enforcement and management that was willing to take pretty much anybody due to a high death rate among the miners, Dee 7 was perfect for hiding in plain sight.

If it hadn't been for a stroke of luck in tracking down The Hollerste, and therefore being able to trace it's various ports of call, Bieti would still be looking. Once the convict had been located, Bieti knew he had to be very careful of not giving his presence away. 

There was one simple reason for that. Before seeing first hand the bond Riddick had with the woman, the general had no doubt that the wary escapee would take off without the slightest glance backward at the tiniest whiff of trouble. So he'd set up an extensive and constant watch. Riddick had the uncanny, and irritating, habit of being able to disappear like a puff of smoke. Not that he couldn't be recaptured, he could. But it was getting harder to do and took a Hell of a lot of resources, mouth money, patience, blood and luck to get him back. The main reason Bieti decided it was time to cut his existence short. 

And it wasn't as if any one would raise a cry about his loss.

As the situation stood, Bieti wanted as little fellow ASF people involved as possible. They might expect Bieti to hand him over to them. That was not what the general had planned. Riddick needed to be dealt with in a more permanent, and this time reliable, manner.

That's where his own little band of "specialists" came in handy. Hand picked by him for the abilities to kill, and be circumspect about it, they were the best of the best. Or the worst of the worst. It depended on whether they were working for you...or hunting you.

It was reported back that the Cholena woman was still with him. And that, exactly as the merc Miriam Gonzalez had reported, they had set up "house." She was there of her own free will and desire. Even more importantly, it was noted that Riddick didn't treat her as would be expected. She was obviously someone important to him. He cared about this woman.

Bieti had trouble believing it at first, but once he saw the surveillance vid's himself, he was forced to concede that the spies had got it right. 

He was never so happy to be wrong in his life. 

Originally he thought the re-taking of Riddick would probably result in a loud, messy bloodbath. As shown by his previous escapes, and consequent recaptures, he wouldn't go easily. That meant the use of heavy fire power and probably civilian deaths. Not to mention the death of some of his own people. Not that he gave a flying rat's ass about people dying, but civies death's meant a public outcry, a public outcry meant investigations, etc. Things he would rather avoid. Things his "projects" needed to avoid at all cost. 

But with Riddick's attachment to the Cholena woman, the general had something to use against him. Something that might make him walk right into the ASF's waiting grasp.

A plan had been formulated, studied and carefully laid out.

The carrying out of the plan had been surprisingly simple. Watch the apartment, wait for the two of them to leave, then pounce in the least public place possible. Bieti figured that with the woman present, Riddick would more than likely stand and fight, rather than run. He'd be at a disadvantage in trying to protect both himself and the woman. Add to the mix the two men he sent to kill the couple were excellent at their jobs.

The result, however, hadn't been as clean to come by as expected. He'd lost some of the best people he had. Their specialized abilities would be missed for a while. But not for long. It was amazing how many illegally talented people were anxious for a chance to be a part of his goon squad. Drugs, sex and power had that side effect.

He ended up sending in a specially trained strike force after the debacle outside the cantina. Men and women loyal to the ASF nominally, to him specifically.

Riddick and the woman had had about a fifteen minute head start. Which for any other escapee lugging around a civie, would've been easily surmountable. But with Richard Riddick, all bets were off. The man could hide in plain sight, cut your throat and be gone before the first drops of blood hit the floor. Add the element of darkness, an environment he thrived in, and a fifteen minute gap turned into a huge advantage.

The woman herself wasn't exactly as much of a hindrance at the general had hoped. She hadn't fallen apart or distracted Riddick from his intent to kill their attackers. Bieti felt he might have underestimated the amount trauma she should be carrying around after Jessup 3. She was evidently tougher then her exterior led one to believe. It was a mistake he promised himself he wouldn't repeat.

But Dee 7 was only so big. An advantage for Bieti and his squad. And he had studied Riddick well enough to know where he would go. The dark...the mines. The less occupied the better. Specs of the mines layout, both active and abandoned, were easily accessed and the squad sent in. 

Bieti had watched from a helmet vid as his people moved in on the trapped couple. The rush of satisfaction in seeing the escapee at the end of the lighted tunnel had been heady. 

He had him!

He had been about to give the order to move into the kill when he noticed the bars separating the Cholena woman from Riddick. 

Where minutes before fierce, burning satisfaction had run through his body, he now felt the equally strong force of rage as he watched the man he wanted dead more than anything else, slip away into the darkness beyond the bars. 

Alphonse Bieti hadn't risen to the level power he now owned without being adaptable. No matter the hot emotions running underneath his skin.

Had Riddick really abandoned her, or just been separated due to a little used and therefore easy to malfunction door?

Everything the last few weeks of surveillance pointed to the latter. He wouldn't have left her if he could've helped it. Bieti knew deep in his gut. The woman would be useful. The order was given to apprehend her. It didn't matter what condition, as long as she was alive and usable.

And here she was. Bruised, unconscious from a sedative and as vulnerable as a newborn babe. The next step would be to get the information to Riddick, no doubt hidden deep in the tunnels, that his woman was still alive and in need of rescue.

Easily done through the miners grapevine. There were sympathizers who would give him the necessary information on the above world and supplies to survive in the hot and inhospitable environment. If not, he knew that Riddick would make sure to surreptitiously listen in on the miner's conversations and news programs regularly beamed to the vid units located throughout the mines. 

Riddick would lie low for a while, giving Bieti a chance to set up a plan using Cholena.

His musings were interrupted when she started to stir on the floor. As he watched her fight her way to semi-consciousness, Bigsby came through the door. The adjutants gaze didn't move an inch from the generals face. 

The woman meant less to him than the floor she laid on. But the information he carried about her was definitely of more interest.

"General, I think you'd better see this report."

Bieti's stare moved with surprise over his aide. The man knew his place very well. It must be something just short of amazing for him to be so presumptuous. Indeed Bigsby's excitement vibrated through to him when he took the information pad being thrust in his direction. A small smile of triumph flitted across the aides face.

A matching one soon came over the general's.

"Well....this changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Yes sir. Should I schedule the procedure ASAP?"

Bieti rubbed a hand slowly over his chin as he returned to contemplating the woman. The light of anticipation making his eyes eerily shine. Making him look somewhat like Riddick.

"Yes."

"Understood sir. With your permission, I'll have her disposed of once it's done."

"Fine." She wouldn't be needed anyway.

With a smart salute, Bigsby turned to leave to make the 'arrangements.'

He was stopped short by the generals soft "Bigsby, wait a moment... a change of plan."

Turning back, the adjutant watched Bieti's face as the general stared hard at the Cholena woman. Seconds ticked by in silence and Bigsby started getting nervous. What could make the general keep the woman alive? Bigsby wanted her dead, if for nothing else, for her poor choice in men. But the main reason was that it would cause Riddick pain. A man he'd come to hate almost as much the general. The convict had made a joke of ASF too many times. And he was just too dangerous to the general to be alive.

"Once the procedure is done, give her some of the serum. It should have an interesting result, don't you think, with her Orion Plague antibodies? It just might make our Mr. Riddick loose his vaulted self-control. People without self control make very deadly mistakes, don't they?"

The smile returned to Bigsby's face. This would be better than death. Or worse, it depended on which side of the needle a person stood.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He wondered where the damn laughter was coming from. It's braying was beginning to get seriously on his nerves. Then he realized it was only in his head.

It was Fate laughing. Or at the very least his minds belief that Fate was having a belly chuckle at his expense.

He'd out run Fate for over two years. Always knowing in the back of his mind that Fate had time on her hands. And Fate WAS a 'she', because Fate was a bitch. She had bided her time well, patient and unruffled, then had viciously asserted her ownership of his life. Punishing him, and those in his life, for their audacity in believing they could live their lives without giving Fate its due. 

If it had just been himself getting the ever loving shit kicked out of his body and mind, he could've dealt. Kept on running. Conceded this round to his ever present and ethereal mistress and then started the next bout. A vicious, though expected, circle. But Zar was now trapped in the cycle of 'run, fight, lose, run' with him now. And she was going to die for that association unless he did something about it.

Richard Riddick stared into the dark of the room. Sweeping his vision over the glowing pink, white and gray of the furniture. Breathing in the odors of blood and shit and fear. Waiting on the occupant to come back from the end of the day.

The events of the last five days replaying in his mind with ruthless clarity. Why in the Hell hadn't he grabbed Zar and high tailed out of the Dee System?! The dream had been a warning. They should've heeded it.

He'd back pedaled down the mine tunnel as he watched the strike force swarm. Turning to run only when the over head door light became a dim glimmer. The drive to escape ingrained deep and tenacious. Not letting him stop to think, to grieve, to absorb the greatest loss his life had ever experienced.

His last sight of Zar had kept running through his mind...over and over and over. His acute hearing picking up the sickening thud of a blunt object hitting vulnerable flesh. He knew that sound well as both wielder and victim. He'd seen her go under the wave of dark uniforms. Knew that there was no way she could have survived the assault.

Another woman had died saving his life. Carolyn Fry and Zarifa Cholena both had decided that his life was worth more than theirs. 

He just didn't see it. Couldn't even begin to grasp their logic. Because as sure as he knew that putting one foot in front of the other made a step, his life came no where near the worth of either of his savior's. Fuck!...it didn't have the worth of MOST of the people in the galaxy.

But both women had sacrificed their lives for him. One out of a sense of duty and guilt. She thought of him as part of her crew. A crew she had once came close to disposing of in self-serving terror. The other out of love. A love she swore was greater than death itself. A love he once swore of the same. 

The old numbness had started to settle in. The minds ability to harden the heart against the pain and anger. Turning the rage into fuel for flight. Telling him that living was the best revenge. Quickly obliterating any thought of giving up. Of ending it all. Even if it was on his own terms.

It wasn't that life was precious. At least his wasn't. But dying meant the fuckers won. And that Zar had died for nothing.

The only thing left to do was run. Till it ended...who knew where or how or when.

A day later and the Profearaben juiced adrenaline rush had worn off. It had been over twenty four hours since he'd last slept and he was deep into the mine network. His every sense told him that he hadn't been followed. His body demanded sustenance and rest.

A mine workers break area had been easy pickings. There had only been three miners sleeping the slumber of the over worked. Dead to the world for all intents and purposes. The only light and noise in the room that of the vid screen rolling its typical blast of images. Good cover for him, though with his talents it wasn't really needed.

Rummaging through the food containers, he paid only slight attention to the vid screen. Only turning to watch when he heard the name Rick and Zar Miller. Their faces had been plastered on the screen. Obviously a surveillance image, it showed them walking from some store in the shopping area.

The voice of the announcer excitedly reporting that Rick Miller had brutally killed Molly and Esker Huvanec outside a local cantina and had kidnapped his own estranged wife Zar Miller. If anyone had any information leading to her rescue and his apprehension, a sizable reward was being offered. No mention was made of the two men he'd killed. No mention of the fact that Richard B. Riddick was alive and well. 

Somebody wanted to keep his name out of it. He wondered if it was to keep the public calm or for some other nefarious reason. He was leaning towards the latter.

Another mans face then came on. Obviously an ASF spokesman by his uniform. A Major Bernard Bigsby the caption read. He pointed out the gruesome facts of the murders to the waiting reporters. Feeding their frenzy with words like 'mentally disturbed', 'vicious' and 'blood thirsty.' Little hope was held out for finding Mrs. Miller alive.

Normally a quick man, it nevertheless took a few seconds for the truth to sink in. To recognize as the tactic for what it was. If she WAS dead, they'd be splashing her body all over vid screen like they were Molly and Eskers. Instead they were using her as bait. For him.

Slowly he let the joy fill his soul. It tried to come out in a roar of triumph and relief. His whole body began to shake with the effort to restrain his voice. Eyes tightly clenched shut, teeth grinding, hands fisted, he managed to keep it inside. Where it warmed a heart gone deathly cold.

That was why he still felt the beat of her heart. It must be. The rhythm of her heart had been apart of him since the strange incident in the service tunnel with Leffner. The time when Zar knew she would die a brutal death and her soul had called out to his. His had answered. Something similar had happened once before, a memory he strongly and instinctively quashed. But never the linking heart beat.

He'd originally thought it was his mind playing tricks on him. The torture done by Miriam Gonzalez had come perilously close to breaking him mentally and physically. He knew that if Zar hadn't come for him, time and his own self-destructive tendencies would've finished the job.

But once on The Hollerste, when he'd placed his hand over her breast as their bodies welcomed each other home, he'd felt the matching cadence. Two separate and distinct tempos beat within his body even though he had only one organ.

He'd never told Zar. The knowledge precious and special. A wonder he knew he could never fully appreciate or explain. It was enough to just know she was always with him. It also made the dream that much scarier.

When he'd seen her go under, he hadn't paid attention to see if the sound had disappeared. He had never handled grief normally. The foster care system, the ASF and the penal system had taught him the hard way that grieving made one weak and vulnerable. And served no purpose.

But the mind needed some form of release and numbness did the job. And that was what he'd been as he doggedly made his way deeper into the mines. Numb. Focusing on the original goal. The only goal since childhood. Survival.

He should've known. Should've listened to his instincts. Along with his eyes, they were his best tools.

Now that he'd opened his internal ears, he knew that Zar was still alive. She had to be. Not only with the proof of her heart beating but also, if she'd been dead, they would've just pinned her murder on him right there. Added fuel to the fire. 

Instead they were using her as bait to reel him in.

He knew what they were planning instantly. Get the word out to him that she was still alive, in their custody and in dire need of rescuing. Hope he came running with more balls than brain and spring the trap.

When she served her purpose, it would be easy to kill her and dispose of the body. Nobody wiser to the facts of her death. Too bad, so sad.

For two seconds the old Riddick chimed in as he always did when his life was in danger. Telling him it would the best opportunity he had to escape Dee 7. They would be more intent on guarding her than the escape routes. That she, no...BOTH....of them would in all likelihood end up dead if he went for her. Better if at least one lived. Right?

But the ugly little voice was quieter this time. It's whine and demands drowned out by the beat of Zar's living...and loving...heart.

He'd come running, no doubt about it. But it hadn't been straight for her. He knew he needed to be smarter than that for her sake. Squelch the burning rage and need to inflict pain on those who would use an innocent woman to get to him.

Instead he'd gone back into the mines. Trailing the ASF search parties sent out for him. Listening to their conversations. Reconnoitering their individual fire power. Finding out which people were in charge of which areas.

And killing them.

He did it for more than revenge. Though each time he felt the blood flow over his hands a little piece of him rejoiced. The primitive side that reveled in the vengeance of his woman. 

Mainly he did it to keep their attention on the mines. Letting them think he was waging a war of attrition. Intending to make the mines and the dark his domain. Knowing they'd focus their fire and man power on what would seem a typically psychopathic course of action.

His plan worked perfectly. The mines were crawling with ASF squadrons. Talkative, informative and nervously unhappy about chasing what they thought was a demented killer. The idea went through his head the 'disturbed' label wasn't ever far from his name, or necessarily wrong. No matter, it hadn't meant shit to him before Zar, and he'd fully embrace it if it meant he could be more effective in rescuing her.

He killed a little over a dozen. And only soldiers, never miners. The miners had little love of the ASF. Many of them being ex-cons or escapees like himself. Besides their sympathy and help might come in handy later.

In the quiet in between the ambushes he wondered at his easy return to killing. The old Riddick might be well contained by Zar's gentle love, but the basic mentality that had driven him was alive and well evidently. Being ruthlessly honest with himself, he admitted that the planned killings hadn't been as repugnant as it should have been after the years of Zar's influence. But, as he shrugged mentally, he had always known that he would never be totally civilized. Play the role within limits...yes. Truly turn the animal inside off...never. It was just too much a part of him.

A part he intended to wring every advantage out of it he could. He'd live with the consequences. As long as Zar was safe.

Due to those advantages he now found himself sitting on the floor in the blackened room. His shined eyes easily making out the rooms layout. Going over it one more time in the careful preparation drilled into him in his early ASF elite forces days. Waiting for the person who would give him the information needed. 

That information was exact whereabouts of Zarifa Cholena and who was willing to go to such lengths to kill him. Their only chance was for him to get to her before they trotted her out to trap him. It had slim hope of succeeding. But it was better than letting her die a death at the hands of whoever was behind this to kill him and everyone who was involved in his life. If...when...he got to her, and the situation had no hope of working out, then he would make sure her death was a kind one. She wouldn't be slaughtered like a cow, but brought gently into the night. He promised himself that, and the extra heart beat inside him.

A thought for Audrey, Hill and Imam flashed through his mind. All he could do was hope the murdering bastard didn't know about them on New Mecca. If he did, well, Riddick knew first hand Audrey's street smarts. She could be one tough little bitch when need be. He knew she'd protect Hill with her life. And even Imam had shown admirable survivability on Taurus 2.

His attention was brought abruptly back to the room. Sounds from outside the door were coming nearer. The cheap mining colonies always had inferior soundproofing in their living quarters. The same could be said for their environmental systems. It had been laughably easy to sabotage the lighting grid. Money figuring to be spent on more important things. Like bribes.

He brought himself to a squatting crouch. Shiv in hand, goggles off, tucked into the back of his pants.

Light spilled into the room as a bar of yellow that reached almost to the opposite end. It lasted only the few seconds it took for the door to close.

A man's voice ,"Lights!" When nothing happened, "Fucking backwater, piece of shit place! Can't even get their fucking enviro's to work right."

Richard knew the exact moment the man noticed the bar of light coming from beneath the bedroom door. The pink and white form turning his head instinctively towards the only light available. Them moving purposefully towards it. Just as he knew he would.

Watching as the door slid open, he stood up. Slowly, silently moved into a position just inches from the man's back. A man who was frozen in terror at the sight the greeted him in the bedroom. 

Blood splatters marked the ceiling and the rooms walls. Negligible amounts compared to what soaked the bed. A bed occupied by what was once his lover. Face down and spread-eagled, the dead body of the young, well-shaped, blond man was bare of both clothes or sheets. Covered in blood and wounds, reddish glistening chunks surrounding him.

The young soldier had been waiting for the man, as per his instructions. His only crime being unlucky enough to catch the eye of his superior officer. His lack of good fortune extending to this being the night Richard B. Riddick stole into the room. But it was enough to guarantee his death. A very ugly demise, driven to painful lengths in the name of love and vengeance. 

The rooms owner sank to his knees as the stench of death roiled over him. He'd caused many a death, knew the condition well. But he'd never had it rammed in his face like this. His mind refused to function. Refused to acknowledge the information his eyes were feeding it. Only the most basic of emotions, terror, had a foot hold.

His shock and fear were compounded by the feel of a hand, almost gently, taking a handful of his hair and yanking back his head. Shined eyes, burning with a cold, cold rage stared down at him as a shiv was placed against his throat.

"You took something that was mine. I took something that was yours. The only difference being that I'm getting mine back..." as the hands owner ran a dispassionate glance over the blood and gore covered body on the bed. "...and you're not."

Bigsby stared into Richard B. Riddick's eyes and knew he was dead. That wasn't a question. What was unknown was how long it would take for him to die.

A small choking sound escaped as the shiv drew a shallow line across his throat. Letting blood bead slowly along the cut. A larger sound emerged when the hand holding his hair cruelly tightened as it twisted his head, forcing his body onto his back as it dragged him farther into the room.

Any hope of coming out alive matching the door his desperate eyes latched onto. Closing in the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She owed Riddick an apology. How he had survived this, and still be a man worth loving, was an amazing feat. Or at the least the small part of her brain that was still Zar thought so.

The rest of her mind was too busy trying to process the pain and the confusion and the rage. Most of all, the rage. The need to physically hurt someone...in the most painful way possible...was like the need to breathe. The longer you held your breath, the more you needed to breathe.

She felt invincible. No, that wasn't quite right. She felt as if death was no longer part of the quotient. Her mind didn't care whether she lived or died, just as long as she could wrap her hands around someone's neck and squeeze as hard as she could. Tear their flesh open, break their bones.

Maybe then the pain would go away. Love, kindness, compassion...they all meant nothing. Just the all consuming need to inflict violence on someone else. 

She knew it was whatever they had injected her with causing the violent fantasies. But knowing it didn't make it any easier to control.

All of her senses had become super sensitive. And it was Hell on Earth. The impulses making her body a giant live wire, full of information that her ravaged brain just couldn't handle.

Sweat poured from every pore. Her hair was slick with it, her skin clammy with it. The amount way beyond the soaking capabilities of the med lab gown she wore. The resulting dehydration giving her a headache and bringing on the shakes that had taken a hold of her, making her feel like a drunk with the delirium tremens. She'd lost so much water that her skin was beginning to mold to her bones. The planes of her face becoming stark even with the extra weight she always carried.

Her mind alternated between visions of blood and death she so wanted to reap, and calmer times where memories flashed of those she had so loved. The passage of time uncountable and irrelevant. 

So lost was she in her own private Hell that the door opening to her cell didn't register until she felt a presence beside her. 

That in itself was strange because for the last few hours, ever since regaining consciousness, even the rats biting at their fleas had sounded like cannons. Every time the enviro's had come on, it felt like a thousand insects were crawling over her skin. The windowless room a blessing because any light probably would've sent barbs of sensitivity through her eyes. As it was, she could see where the walls met each other as if the room was flooded in daylight. The smells of the cells previous occupants making her want to retch, mixing as they did with the disinfectant that supposedly neutralized all odors.

She had no control over her actions when the hand touched her head.

One minute she was curled in a ball against the wall, rocking herself in mimicry of a mothers comforting act. 

The next she was flying for the throat of the hands' owner with a deep growl. Her mind heedless of the hands gentleness. All it knew was that there was an opportunity to get rid of the rage boiling like a volcano inside of her belly. A chance to rip and hit and beat and inflict any other ugly act it cared to commit.

Richard easily captured the talon like hands racing towards his face. He'd known what was coming. Still, the strength of her momentarily surprised him. It allowed her to pull one hand free and swipe it's nails across his cheek. Leaving bright bloody streaks in it's wake.

He still had control of one of her hands, but that didn't stop her from trying to bite him on the arm and hit him in the balls. His natural urge was to back hand her across the face. But his heart screamed at him that this was Zar. No matter what she did to him, he couldn't hurt her like that.

He settled for pushing her back against the wall then twisting her so that her face was pressed hard against the cold surface. Capturing her wrists in one hand and holding them against her ass. Holding her throat against the wall with his other hand by gripping the back of her neck. His movements so fast that even with her new reflexes and strength she had little chance to counteract them.

Leaning his face in close to her ear he whispered, "Zar! It's me, Richard...relax!"

Her breathing was harsh in the silence of the room. It was the breathing of a cornered animal. Sounds filled with fear and aggression and pain. He felt the tension run through the muscles of her body, just waiting for an opportunity to escape and fight.

Just as suddenly, the strength went out of her. The harsh breathing turning to gut wrenching sobs. She started to slide down the wall and he had to release her or else risk choking her or dislocating her shoulders. Half expecting her sudden change to be a trick, he stepped back. Hands at the ready for another attack.

But all she did was fall to her haunches. Clasping the wall as she cried.

Feeling the risk minimal since he hadn't been spotted right off the bat, Richard Riddick ordered lights at ten percent. He looked down at Zarifa Cholena and knew they had broken her. The pale woman weeping before him, with sweat roped hair and shaking body was as far from the woman he'd left at the abandoned mine doorway as a moon was from its sun. 

A part of him dispassionately noted the marks of abuse on her. Her wrists had bruises and rub burn marks all the way around, as did her ankles. It must of hurt like a bitch when he grabbed her. 

There were the beginning of suppurating sores on her face and arms. Patches of hair were missing. Probably from her tearing them out. A couple of nails bled from having been ripped off. Her body just wouldn't stop shaking.

In the back of his mind, he thought that if he had come upon her as a stranger in her current physical and mental state, he would've put her out of her misery. Snapped her neck cleanly...a quick, merciful death.

He knew that was what he should do.

Bigsby had been very talkative. Telling him whatever he wanted to know and then some. It hadn't made a difference. Richard still killed him slowly and painfully. Only ending the man's misery by slicing his gut open and wrapping his intestines around his throat. Death came quickly, but slow enough for the unlucky one to know and feel all that had been done to him. Riddick remembered reading about that particular brand of Viking brutality. It had even repulsed him somewhat at the time. Now it just felt like justice.

So he knew exactly what had been done to Zar. It had made a rage burn so strong that his blood seemed to actually boil. Richard had originally changed his mind and planned on just slitting his throat, to save time. The fate the same as he'd done to the lover before carving him up for show and tell. But horror at what the piece of shit had put Zar through, just because she happened to be apart of Riddick's life, had made Bigsby's death seem appropriate. 

For intents and purposes they had ripped the psychological guts out of Zar, turn about was only fair play.

The sobs showed no sign of stopping. Needing to touch her, Richard sat on his haunches and gathered her into arms. Aching deep in his heart at the feel of her bones and clammy skin. He wanted to kill Bigsby all over again. He would just have to settle on the other one.

First things first. He had to get Zar to safety.

"Don't cry. It'll be alright." Though he knew it wouldn't be. Zarifa Cholena may have survived intact after Elson Brenner twice, Burt Leffner and Miriam Gonzalez, but she wouldn't survive unchanged after this. Things would never be the same.

Zar, obviously pulling her mind from the horrors it now lived in, lifted her head and looked into Richard's face. Raising a weak hand, she lightly touched the seeping wound on his face.

"They made me do that to you."

Turning his face into her palm, he softly kissed her palm. The sickly sweet smell of change was on her, oozing from her pores with her sweat. The smell brought memories of his own introduction to the drug they'd given her. Memories of cold, pain and the smell of his own body being ripped apart from the inside out.

"I know. It's alright. What matters is that we get you out of here."

He tried to lift her to her feet, but was stopped by the violent shaking that started again along with the weeping.

"No! I can't go with you. I could hurt you. Kill you, even. And not be able to stop myself. You don't know what they did to me Richard!"

Framing her face in his hands he told her, "Yes, I do. The gave you some Profearaben. Not as much as me, but enough to do some major damage. If it weren't for you being an Orion Plague baby, you'd be dead."

Her eyes reflected baffling insult. She would've understood them imprisoning her, trying her, killing her. But experimentation?!

"Why?! For God's sake why? I hardly remember anything after we became separated. I have a sense of voices and pain...a lot of pain...but that's about it."

"Because they wanted you alive as bait, but easily controllable. It also served the purpose of continuing an experiment that has been going on for over fifteen years." Tenderly her brushed away some hair that had fallen into her eyes. His throat tightening in sorrow when the wet strands easily came away tangled in his fingers.

"Mostly because you were expendable."

Swallowing with obvious difficulty, she whispered out the next words.

"That wasn't all they did. They...put something...up me. I remember them putting my legs in stirrups, then pain."

His jaw tightened with repressed rage at the picture her words brought to mind. Bigsby had gone into disgusting detail on the gynecological procedure done on her. Saying it had been too exceptional of an opportunity to pass up.

Now he had to tell her.

"No Zar, they didn't put something up you, they took something out."

Her eyes burned their question as her hand subconsciously placed itself on her stomach.

Wondering how much more her traumatized mind could take, he chose his words carefully.

"Remember the transfusion I gave Audrey? Well, it worked to rebuild her blood because Profearaben has exceptional regenerative properties. And not just in the blood stream. It seems it worked the same with you. Evidently I've given you enough of my bodily fluids, and therefore my DNA, to regenerate part of your body that was damaged before."

His fingers tightened fractionally on her bewildered and terror struck face. He knew the instant the logic started to come together in mind.

"A baby. They took our baby. The Profearaben fixed my reproductive organs and let me get pregnant! Oh my God, Richard! They took our baby!"

Great racking shudders rent through out her frame. The horror and pain of the procedure paling beside the heinous idea behind it.

"What do they want with it? Dissection? Experimentation? WHAT?!"

"There's a General Bieti. He's been experimenting on prisoners with drugs like Profearaben for years. They only just discovered a few months ago that Orion Plague babies have strange immune systems and react quite differently than other humans. They've been wanting to try Profearaben on one of you ever since. Then, when they ran a scan on you, it came up positive for pregnancy. 

"He had already accessed your past medical records, knew you'd been beaten almost to death and had lost reproduction ability because of it. He put two and two together and figured Profearaben was responsible.

"Zar, he didn't give you an abortion. He wants to bring the fetus to full gestation. He thinks any child of mine would have extraordinary properties. After they took it from you, they put it in stasis. They're just looking for the right surrogate. We have to get it back and get the Hell out of here."

He stopped talking. Letting the information settle in her bruised mind. Hoping she could get herself around the ugliness of the whole fucking situation and decide to come out fighting. Bieti had destroyed what would've been a joyous occasion for her. The finding of something she once thought was forever lost to her. He didn't think she'd take what Bieti had done lying down. He knew he sure as shit didn't want to. It all depended on her.

But too much had been done to her. Even the thought of losing another child wasn't enough to bring her up from the Hell Profearaben had cast her into. Her eyes began to gloss over as the drugs influence returned. Her body bowed as the pain screamed along her nerve endings.

"Don't fight it! Just let it roll through you. It goes away quicker when you relax."

For long seconds she clung to his strong body. The only anchor she had in a private world gone mad with horror and agony. She felt the sweat flow harder from her skin, the sores on her face throbbed and her muscles trembled. Her breathing the loud panting of an animal in pain.

A thousand bloodthirsty thoughts flashed through her mind. She wanted to hurt something, someone, everyone. She felt Richard's arms tighten around her to the point of almost cutting off her breathing. But it did what she needed it to do, it stopped her from turning into a growling, slavering beast.

He was right, letting it run it's course made it go faster. Long minutes later, when breathing didn't involve taking in great sobs of air, when the madness subsided, she could think again.

"You have to leave me here. I'm just going to get you killed. If I don't end up trying to kill you myself. I have no control, Richard.

"Go find that stasis tube. Get it away from Bieti. Destroy if it you have to, just don't let them do to our child what they've done to the both of us!"

Richard let a sneer of disgust cross over his face. "You're just going to let them do that to a child of yours? Because I'm damned straight not going to leave you. If it means they find me in here with you, so be it. They can take the both of us and do their nasty little procedures on the fetus. If that happens, it's on your shoulders Zar."

Tears of frustration started to roll once again. "Why are you doing this? I thought you didn't want any children. That's what you told Miriam!"

He leaned his face closer into hers, his lips almost brushing hers as he spoke. He hoped she took note of his determined expression. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. 

"Yeah, I did say that. I also told you that if it was your child I would do it for you. This is that opportunity. You going to let it pass by? You thought you could never have anymore after Brenner almost raped you to death. And I know it eats you up inside. You've lost Beth, Audrey and Hill. You going to lose another child?

"The only way that baby in the stasis tube is going to make it is if you come with me right now. Otherwise, I do us both right here, right now. I won't give the fucking bastards the satisfaction of killing us a little bit at a time."

Zar closed her eyes as the truth of his words, and eyes, sank in. She knew he would do it. And though it might be merciful for them, she couldn't condemn her child, any child, to the depravity she knew would be inflicted.

So she would go with him. She'd make sure he and the baby were safe, then leave. Someway, somehow. Staying just wasn't an option. Having the baby replanted wouldn't be a big deal. It was a common enough procedure, done by anyone who knew how to operate a GynoWand. But she was so far gone from being mother material, at least emotionally, after the Profearaben that she feared she might actually do the baby harm.

After she was gone, well, she knew Richard would make sure the baby was safe. If not with him, then with someone else.

Opening her eyes, she focused her stare a few inches to the side of his. Hoping he wouldn't see the deception.

"Alright. I'll go."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

They were tossing around words like 'savage', 'gory' and 'sickening.'

But Alphonse Bieti knew none of those statements really applied to the carnage that surrounded him and the three men who stood in Bernard Bigsby's quarters. Not just because the amount of blood and flesh scattered around the room was beyond normal adjectives, but because of a much more hidden reason.

Words like 'savage' and 'gory', when uttered, gave the impression of uncontrollability. Of a monster run amok. But the atrocious murders Riddick had committed on the bodies of Bernard Bigsby and his lover were the exact opposite. They were carefully planned and carried out with the target audience in mind.

Bieti had no doubt that he'd been that audience when Riddick hacked the flesh of Bieti's people. Richard Riddick might not have known his name before he did his little torture and death thing on Bigsby, but it was a definite that he did after.

The escapee would know that not much else would make an impression on the general. He'd done too much of the same himself and was as jaded as could be expected because of it.

If he wanted to get Bieti's attention, he'd have to do something spectacular. And something that the general would have no problem deciphering. 

The message was simple. "I'M COMING FOR YOU.'

He couldn't have been more pleased. When he'd first decided to have Riddick killed, he'd told Bigsby to do it quickly and quietly as possible. He was, after all, a man who valued efficiency almost above all else. 

But now he was almost looking forward to the coming confrontation. He hadn't been challenged like this in a many a year. Mostly because he dealt ruthlessly with all challengers to his power. They usually crumpled under the weight of his determination like tin foil. Riddick on the other hand had a much stronger constitution. More the make of cold, hard steel. 

But even steel could be melted and broken. Apply enough heat, enough pressure and watch the cracks appear. Stress did the rest.

The outcome was a given, but getting there was half the fun.

The three soldiers who'd accompanied him involuntarily widened their eyes as a small smile passed over his face. The fact that he was looking directly as the largest chunk of remains of his adjutant made the smile all that more evil. 

They'd worked for Bieti for a few years. Knew exactly how ruthless he could be. But the total lack of grief or anger, hidden behind a facade of warm, if restrained, geniality had everyone one of them determined to apply for transfer as soon as possible.

The general's cold eyes swiveled unexpectedly to rest on them. He knew what they were thinking. Didn't give a shit at that point in time in masking his indifference as he usually did. Maybe Riddick was rubbing off on him. He just didn't feel the need to play the 'human being' game. 

"Burn everything, sanitize the room. Wong," the officer pinned by that low growl barely stopped himself from flinching, "you're in charge of the Miller operation now. Be in my office in ten minutes."

Turning his back on the gaping men, he left the room at his usual military cadence. The dead men already forgotten.

As he walked down the corridor towards his make shift office, he contemplated what information Riddick was likely to tortured out of Bigsby. Did he know everything? Or was Bigsby loyal enough, and tough enough, to deny Riddick the most sensitive knowledge even unto death?

Bieti rather doubted Bigsby had the artillery to come out the winner in a war of minds with Riddick. Not many did. So take it as a given that Riddick knew not only about him, but also about the procedure done to the Cholena woman, what was taken from her and what was given to her in contemptuous recompense. 

As he walked down the hallway towards his office, he put himself in Riddick's shoes. What would be the killer's priority? Get the woman to safety or rescue the fetus? Riddick would be smart enough to know that only one had any chance of succeeding. Time wasn't on his side so it would be a matter of triage. Decide who lived and who died. His woman or his child.

The two soldiers stationed at his office door saluted smartly as he passed into the room. Each hoping to catch the 'great' man's notice and maybe climb up the promotion ladder. But neither was rewarded with even the smallest of gesture.

Wong found him there, seated at his desk, twenty minutes later. Fear at being late warred with apprehension at having to tell the General the latest news on Miller. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he addressed the man who held his life, both figuratively and literally, in his hands.

"Sir, there's been a...development." Wong knew he should just come right out with it, get it over with. But the shaking in his gut wouldn't let him keep his voice steady. 

Even with his back to his now top aide, Bieti could smell the fear coming off him. Whatever had happened evidently would not be a pleasure to hear.

"Development?" The one word was spoken barely above a whisper, but the shear menace in the tone had Wong's bowels loosening. Unconsciously he started to edge toward the office door.

"Yes, sir. The Miller woman is...gone."

The sound of the chair swiveling around sent a grating pain straight to the adjutants head. The eyes that met his didn't show anger. Anger would've been a relief compared to the cold emptiness that pinned him to the spot. 

"I issued express orders that her cell was to be kept under the strictest surveillance at all times."

"Yes, sir. There seems to have been an...occurrence...in the equipment sometime within the last two hours."

Bieti stared hard at the paling young man before him. He had contemplated including Wong in on the fact that they were hunting Richard Riddick, but the man's obviously weak spine made that an impossibility.

The operation would just have to be kept going with rest of it's participants running blind. Not a big deal the more he thought about it. After all, the three most important participants were fully aware of who was the prey.

"I take it you ordered a full search?"

"Yes, sir. We doubt she got very far."

The loud bark of laughter sent the aide skittering back another step.

"Wong, do really think that woman had the physical ability to fuck with the surveillance system, break out of the cell and cover her tracks this long?! Come on son, use your head! She was curled up into a mindless ball by the time our people got done with her. No, Miller's the one who managed this little rescue. He's come out of the mines for the woman. 

"Check all out going transports. And have all incoming transports closely watched. Any ship reported to be leaving without my express permission is to be blasted out of the air. Did I put that in simple enough terms for you Major?"

Visible dislike flared momentarily in the aide's eyes at being treated like an incompetent punk. It gave him the balls to ask what had been buzzing around his brain ever since finding the remains of Bigsby and his lover. The thoughts first planted by rumors floating around ever since they had arrived on Dee 7.

"There's talk that this isn't just some doped up miner, sir. That Richard Riddick didn't die on Taurus 2 as most believe. It would make sense wouldn't it, sir? How this guy keeps escaping our traps, the way our men are being ambushed and murdered, the disappearance of the Miller woman."

Bieti leaned back into his chair. Bigsby would've been able, if still alive, to tell Wong that this was the first sign that he'd made a very big mistake. The equivalent of a snake coiling itself tighter to gather momentum for an attack.

"You're point being, Major?"

"My point, General?! My point being that if we're up against Riddick that we need to make this a much bigger operation with a Hell of a lot more fire power! Our people are working dangerously blind. Don't you think they deserve to have all the info they need to capture someone like him?!"

Bieti studied Wong's impassioned face and came to the conclusion that the Bigsby's were few and far between. The man had been willing to do anything ordered. No questions asked. Personally, he'd miss him not for one minute. Professionally, he knew it would a long time before his talents would be replaced.

In the meantime, any do-gooders that came along would have to be dealt with. He worked too hard, had too much at stake to let them put it in jeopardy.

Coming to his feet he walked slowly around the desk. His fingers rubbing his jaw as if in contemplation of Wong's demands. A smile began to spread itself across his face as, upon reaching the major's side, he placed a fatherly arm around his shoulders.

"You're right son, Richard Riddick is alive. And you may even have a point in recommending more men and fire power. But there's just one issue I have with that."

Grabbing Wong's hair he slammed his face up against the wall. The sickening crack of an eye socket exploding within the major's head. He tried to struggle, but the older man had more strength than he did. The part of his mind not awash in fear and pain wondered how that could be.

Bieti kept control of his aide by pressing his body against the wall with his own. Reaching one hand up to grab Wong's chin he brought his face with inches of the obviously terrified man.

"Richard Riddick is mine! No one, NO ONE, is going to fuck with what I have planned for him! Especially not some piss ant of a major who doesn't know when to follow orders or when to shut up! Hell, son, you just signed your own death warrant."

A quick twist of his wrist and the majors neck was broken. His body going slack as his eyes lost the spark of awareness.

Bieti didn't let the body sink to the floor. Rather he grabbed the collar and drug it across the room to a door marked "Private – No Admittance." A few quick keypad hits and the door opened silently.

The room was lit with a diffused, soft pink light. Various instruments of science arranged on the two tables stationed against the wall. He knew Bigsby had moved Heaven and Earth to get this room set as quickly as he had when they first arrived. And now it would be the temporary coffin of his successor. The irony of it wasn't lost on the general.

He dumped the body over in the farthest corner and then walked over to one of the two glass enclosed coolers set against the opposite wall. Inside were various Petrie dishes and specimen jars. 

And one longish tube.

As he stared at the tube he saw how everything was going to go down. It would end in this room for Riddick. This is where they would meet for the first and final time. The body in the floor would just be one more victim of Richard Miller. What was in the tube would make him a very rich and powerful man. 

And God help whoever got in his way.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He knew he was leading them into a trap. Envisioned the smile of an invisible enemy widen with each step. But he saw little alternative. The only other choice was to leave Dee 7 without the stasis tube. 

It would've been the smart thing to do. Every survival instinct he had was screaming that he do just that. But he knew Zar, especially in her heightened emotional state, would not go for it. He knew the idea of leaving a child of hers in the hands of Bieti and his monster squad was bothering her more than even what they had done to her. He knew leaving the tube behind would destroy whatever fragile hold she had on herself.

Bigsby had been very cooperative. Oh, not at first. The adjutant had a deep sado-masochistic streak in him that seemed to almost get off on the torture. Even being in the same room with the ripped apart body of his dead lover hadn't quelled Bigsby's ingrained need to feel and inflict pain. 

Riddick had seen his kind before. The ones who equated pain with eroticism and visa versa. In the past he'd played their games to get what he needed. He'd learned to perform all sorts of amusements in the penal system. Mind games, body games...anything that gave him an advantage. 

Riddick had neither the time, nor the inclination, to indulge Bigsby.

That's when it had turned ugly and that's when the adjutant had started to talk. Talk and explain and show. Riddick now knew who had booked him this one way ticket to Hell and what he looked like. He thought that once he knew the 'why' it would've satisfied something within him. But it didn't. Didn't even come close. Especially when he looked at Zar. When he thought of Esker and Amy, the stasis tube. After everything that had been done to him and his, he didn't give a flying rats ass about 'why.'

His mind had a hard time getting around the fact that the scrap of tissue and blood inside that tube were a part of him. The part of his mind that recognized it was only a small voice though. He still had no great opinion of life's sanctity. He'd seen it come and go too much to be impressed. Life and death only held meaning when it involved him or someone he allowed himself to care about. Everyone else was just so much fodder for God's Big Joke.

Being scrupulously honest with himself, he knew he was only going after the 'baby' for Zar's sake. The part of himself that was so in tune with her knew she was holding onto sanity with just the barest thread of strength. Losing the tube, and it's unspoken, but easily speculated on results would probably push her over the edge into permanent madness.

He understood the need to hold onto something to keep yourself from going insane. After they'd injected him with Profearaben, the rage and hatred had been the only thing keeping him from becoming a drooling idiot. Telling himself he'd be damned if he gave them the satisfaction of just making him another statistic in their brutal games.

Getting Zar out of her cell had been too easy, though he hadn't expected it to be. The surveillance system had been top of the line, and he'd been out of the game for over two years. Once he helped her cross the threshold, he waited for every alarm from here to Kingdom Come to sound. It hadn't. It could just be that Bieti was concentrating his forces on what was in Bigsby's room. But Riddick didn't think Bieti was that stupid or easily sidetracked. 

But he had to take the chance that was what exactly was happening. He didn't have the time to completely scout out the situation like his instincts screamed at him to do. He had to get Zar to a hidden comfort zone. Get some clean clothes, fluids, and hopefully food, into her. Let her rest for a few hours. Hope her physical and emotional equilibrium returned enough to help him, or at least not a hindrance. 

Shuffling along with him in the deserted back corridors of the ASF's temporary offices, in obvious pain, she hadn't said a word since leaving the cell. Not that it was a good time for talking, but still, her unusual silence worried him. She was a gabber in the best of times, a down right motor mouth when things were getting hairy. If not actually talking, she had a habit of muttering to herself. For a man of silence, it had taken a lot of patience, and love, to learn to tune her out in the first few months of their relationship. 

Later on, her habit had become almost comforting. A sweet drone in his ear, the sound of her voice had kept him grounded whenever rage and hatred had threatened to overwhelm him. 

Now her silence was like an itch between his shoulders blades. He could ignore it, but he knew it was there nonetheless. Mostly, it signaled what he'd been trying to deny to himself. She'd been permanently altered. 

In the cell, there had been that small glimpses of the heart that made her Zar. But with each hour the Profearaben worked on her system, she would become less and less that woman he knew, and loved, only a few short days ago. 

That brought up questions of the future. Something he just wasn't willing to deal with at the moment. Getting the tube, getting the fuck off of Dee 7 and finding someplace safe to lick their wounds was as farsighted as he was going to allow himself to get. 

And oh yeah, murdering the fuck out of Bieti. That was right up there on the list. That butcher couldn't have hurt him worse if he'd skinned him alive when he changed Zar. Taken the one good thing in his life irrevocably away from him. There would be payment in kind.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that she'd fallen farther behind. Her hair had dried somewhat, but she was deathly pale. One arm crossed over her stomach, the other flat against the wall as a guide and support. She needed rest.

Looking around with more interest, he noticed a door marked 'SUPPLIES.' As long as he could find something to jam the door shut from the inside, it would due as a pit stop on their way to Bieti's office.

The door was ridiculously easy to force open. Taking a quick scan around the dark room, he saw that their was only a few pieces of office furniture, cleaning supplies and rats. These places would always have rodents. They usually left him alone, instinctively knowing that this was one human meaner than they were. The place would just have to do.

She'd propped herself up against the wall when he'd gone in the supply room. Eyes vacant and fixed, she put up no resistance when he swung her sore covered body up into his arms. She felt so much lighter, as if she lost more than just body fat and muscle. It felt like she'd lost another part that was uniquely her. 

Her solidity had always been one of the comforting things he loved about her. It gave him the confidence to show her the true him. Knowing she could take whatever he threw at her and that he didn't always have to be in protect mode with her. In the bedroom and out. Now she seemed as vulnerable and weak as Audrey had when he first saw her on Taurus 2. 

He sat her on a desk while devising a jam for the door. Then moving on to arranging the flotsam and jetsam of the room to create a hidden refuge. He used the corner along with two desks making up the last two walls. It would even have a roof of a large display board that he could move once they were inside. The subterfuge would last along as no one looked too hard. Finding some dusty, but otherwise clean drop cloths, he arranged a nest for them to lie in. 

He'd left the room dark for safety sake and for the comfort of her sensitive eyes. The only light coming from under the door and the tinted windows high up on the wall. As he moved around he would occasionally glance at her still form to make sure she didn't fall off the desk or become agitated and possibly compromise their concealment. But the light pink and gray form never moved. 

Somewhere deep inside a filament of terror wrapped itself around his heart. The tighter it squeezed the more he knew she wasn't ever going to be the same. He, the one who had thrived and counted on the fact that things and people always changed for the worse, now wanted nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. He had never understood why so many of the con's he been around had moaned and keened for the time that had been lost or stolen from their lives. Screaming and begging for God to please let them go back in time when things were so much better.

But he knew now. And even with his precious self-control that ruled his life, he wanted to be the one to scream and beg. Promise the Father that had abandoned him and made his life dog shit, anything if only He would give him back the old Zar. The only thing that stopped him was the futility of the gesture. God hadn't answered any of the other con's prayers...and some of them had been good people caught up in bad situations.

Why didn't he just kill her? Kill himself? Put the both of them out of their misery? Whatever Bieti did with their child would be way beyond their caring in the land of the dead. The thoughts ran through his head. But he couldn't bring himself to give them any serious consideration. 

Too long a life of fighting to live even when life had no meaning. Of not giving the fuckers the satisfaction of making him just another sad statistic. The drive to make someone, anyone, everyone, pay for the life that was his. Expecting to die in just this type of hopeless situation but refusing to make it easy for any of the bureaucratic assholes that deserved his life even more than he did.

And as much as he loved Zar unselfishly enough to want her out of pain, he loved her selfishly enough to refuse to give her up that easily.

So he let her sit on the edge of the desk while he looked for some other type of clothing. Finally coming across a pair work overalls similar to the ones she used to wear on Polaris. A brief flash joy going through his body as he remembered the fun he had wrestling them off her while she laughingly resisted. Those were the times he had first started smiling with true happiness, not just sarcasm. When rejoining the human race had beckoned. 

Ruthlessly pushing back the memories of a Zar gone forever, he helped her out of her ruined gown and into the overalls. The anger growing hot and vicious as he looked at the self-inflicted wounds and bruises adorning her body. Wishing he had Bieti's neck within his hands at that very moment. But he hadn't stayed alive this long by being impatient. And the longer he waited to exact his revenge, the more the hatred grew. Making him meaner. Making him stronger.

Putting the finishing touches on dressing her, he cupped her face in his hands. Bringing her unresisting eyes up to meet his. There was an emptiness there that he'd seen too often glowing back at him from a mirror.

"This place looks forgotten by the amount of dust on everything. We should be safe here in the meantime. I'm going out to find you some food. Stay in...."  
Showing their first signs of life since finding her in the cell, her eyes pleaded with him as she grabbed the hand cupping her face, "Please don't. I'm not hungry anyway. I'd rather you stayed here with me. I'm so tired and I'm...scared of sleeping. Afraid I'll either wake up or not wake up. I don't know which is worse." She'd ended it with a painful little laugh.

Gently tightening his hands around her face he told her in a voice shaded with desperation and love "It's the Profearaben making you think these things. Don't let it win Zar! Don't let it take you away from me. You worked too damn hard trying to turn me into a human again to leave me now." He was rewarded with a small smile and it made the filament of terror around his heart loosen a degree or two. Maybe she wasn't too far gone yet.

"If you're sure you can do without the food then I'll stay here. I could use some down time myself. Okay?"

Nodding slightly she instinctively leaned into the lips that touched her forehead. Then recoiled sharply upon realizing that he was kissing her canker covered skin. There'd been no pain, just self-disgust and embarrassment. 

He knew why she blanched but wouldn't let the ugly emotions get a foothold any further than they already had.

"No! Don't you dare draw away from me! You've touched me when I've been in ten times worse shape. It's still you in there! It's still Zar!"

He watched helplessly as she refused to meet his eyes. Staring instead at the floor in defeated hopelessness. She was right next to him physically, but he couldn't help but feel that her soul, the thing that made her Zar, was a million miles away. If it even still existed.

He wanted to shake her violently, hug her till she pleaded with him for breath, scream at her with hot, angry breath blasting her face. But a sense of the uselessness for any gesture, along with an inexorable weariness, kept him from doing any of that.

"Come on. We'll get some sleep and then deal with whatever else is coming."

Swinging her up into his arms he then slid her across one of the desks that made their hidey hole. First making sure she was settled before dragging the large display board over the top. The darkness almost complete save for the small patches of dim light filtering in from the open bottom of the desks. 

They wouldn't be able to sit up but there was plenty of room for maneuvering while laying down. He made sure she was closest to the wall. His body to be her first line of defense.

Turning to his side he reached to bring her closer. Telling her to "Shhhh..." when she put her hands against his chest in resistance.

"I need to hold you. Please."

Her hands remained against his shirt covered chest but the pressure changed. Instead of pushing him away she now scooted closer. Letting him slide an arm over her hip, cushioning her head on the arm he provided.

Inhaling the fragrance that was uniquely Richard she let herself float in the cocoon of safety and comfort he had provided. Letting all the pain and horror and uncertainty drift. They couldn't go away entirely, but they backed off enough for her to find a small measure of peace. Something she hadn't had for what seemed like forever. 

Long minutes passed. And when she whispered "I love you" it was only after she had come to a decision. She couldn't see a way out for any of them. Her, Richard, the baby. Maybe it was the Profearaben talking, but it was just as likely reality finally sinking in.

She just wanted the whole stinking nightmare to end.

His body already slackening as it slipped into sleep, there was no response to her whispered words except for the slight tightening of his arm over her hip. Bringing her closer to him even as unconsciousness took hold. Exhaustion finally overtaking him. The weeks and their hideous activities catching up and demanding their due.

She let herself lay there for a precious hour. Soaking Richard up like a dry lake bed being bathed in a Summer deluge. Unconsciously rubbing the place on her finger where his ring had once rested. The ring had been one of the first things they'd stripped from her and she felt its loss deep in her soul. The gift of love from an amazing man gone forever. It's absence a gloating reminder of everything she'd lost on Dee 7.

Indulging herself with one last beautiful memory she lightly brushed his lips with hers. Then gently lifted his arm off her hip as she raised to one elbow. Using her new found Profearaben abilities to silently lift the top of their 'tent', slide over a desk and then replace the top.

Refusing to look back as she disengaged the door jam and walked from the room. Ignoring the pain of her heart irrevocably breaking. But then, it was easier to ignore pain when it was wrapped in a layer of thick cold. 

The cold made everything easier to ignore. 


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

"Dada! Look what Audi ga' me!"

The little girl ran with arms outstretched. She ran with a smile of complete confidence that the arms of the man would catch her if she were to fall. Bright, innocent joy lighting her face from within. The simple, basic, indestructible belief that love would be there always. 

Barefoot, with golden, frizzy curls flying behind her, she wore a tiny, flowered sun-dress that fell to her chubby three year-old knees. The sunlight dappling her as she made her way through the tree lined path that led to a farmstead.

She looked so much like her mother he felt the breath catch in his throat. She had the same effect on him as her mother had. A kick to the gut, in awe that something so perfect and wondrous was apart of his life. That such a thing of beauty could love him unconditionally. 

Audrey ambled along behind her. Giving the child time with her father and her newest, most precious possession. Laughing as thickly muscled arms picked up and twirled the little girl as if she were a top. Inducing a squeal of delight from the toddler that even had the usually solemn Riddick cracking a grin.

"What do you have there Goldilocks?" he asked as he held her to his chest.

"A pwitty fower'!

The chubby face with hazel eyes looked up at him with excitement and expectation. News of this magnitude deserved an equally exciting response. He dutifully 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over the sadly wilted and twisted botanical victim. All the time wondering where the ability to make his daughter happy came from. 'Cause it was damn sure no one in his childhood had ever 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over anything of his.

He set the wiggley little girl down with instructions to go into the house and have Imam put it in water. Not that he seriously thought it would do the poor critter any good, but it would make Zarabeth happy. 

And that was all that mattered to him anymore. Making the wondrous and beautiful creature that was his daughter safe and happy. 

Something he hadn't been able to do for her mother.

Four long years ago he'd awoken in the dirty supply closet alone and panicked. 

Zar was gone. 

Guilt and panic had immediately torn into him that he'd not heard her leave. Even the knowledge that she now had a fledglings helping of the same abilities as he possessed couldn't quench the burn of self-blame in his gut.

He should've known she would try something like that with the frame of mind she'd been in! He'd slept before with one ear and eye open, pushing his body to rest only, never deeply sleep. Why hadn't he done it then?!

He'd searched for her frantically around the perimeter of the supply closet. Unable to do as thorough a hunt as he wanted to do for fear of detection. Two hours later he reluctantly gave it up. 

Sure that Zar had left to find a place to die by her own hand. Certain in his heart because his heart now beat alone. The other- worldly echo of her organs rhythm gone. Its absence filled by an aching knowledge that she'd been unable to cope with the Profearaben flowing through her veins like lava from a volcano. Refusing to trust him, or burden him for that matter. Refusing to believe that they would find a way to endure together. 

He couldn't really blame her. The woman who'd run away from him had just barely been the Zar he lived with and loved for the last few years. Really just a shadow of her former self. And the change would've just become worse as the vicious drug worked on her mind and body more and more. Her being an Orion Plague baby had allowed her to survive the injection, something most people did not. But that was as far as the immunity would've gone. She'd be just as susceptible to Profearaben's corrupting influences as he'd been. 

But that didn't mean accepting her death had been any easier. In fact, it had been the hardest thing he'd ever done is life. Every cell in his heart screamed at him to not give up. But his brain, (the part of him that long ago had learned to see what WAS...just fucking WAS!), screamed at him even louder to face the inevitable. To save the tube that held their child and get the hell off of Dee 7as Zar had begged him to do. 

Calling on every scrap of emotional strength he possessed, he pushed the pain down deep into the small, cold box that was now his heart. Understanding that the only way he was getting off the asteroid was by numbing himself to the realization that he would never touch Zar again.

From the tidbits Bigsby had let drop, he knew the man hunting him was not the most mentally stable. A true sociopath if there ever was one. If only half of what the adjutant said was true, Bieti made Richard Riddick look like a school-yard bully in comparison. He knew the longer he left the tube in Bieti's hands, the less chance he had of escaping with it surviving intact.

The frenzied, unorganized movements of the ASF showed that they were still clueless on how to find him. Most were as afraid of being the ones to find him as to not finding him at all. The bloody deaths of Bigsby and his lover making him, in their minds, a walking-talking monster of the most horrifying kind. The longer it took to find him, the more supernatural abilities he took on.

He took advantage of their lack of order to make his way to where he knew the stasis tube was kept. Part of him hoping to meet Bieti along the way. But realizing that it would probably come down to escape and safety for him and the tube or taking revenge. 

He couldn't even begin to think of a pay back painful enough for what Bieti had done to him. To Zar. It would've taken days, time he didn't have, to formulate a retaliation as equally excruciating for the man that had taken away all that was precious to him. 

He had no idea how he was going to get into Bieti's office. Certain the passage way and entrance would be closely guarded. But in a way, the general himself gave him an 'in'.

He and Zar hadn't been the only ones the ASF had been brutalizing on Dee 7. A heavy round of interrogations and 'justified' detentions had been inflicted on the residents of the asteroid. The reason given was to apprehend the wife-killer Rick Miller, but in reality the ASF tended to do that kind of shit just to keep the populations under their control in a constant state of unease.

Most inhabitants caved. Did what the brutal organization demanded and prayed that they'd leave. But Dee 7 was made up of men and women previously abused by the Alliance Security Forces. Ex-cons and escapees, those caught and those who'd slipped the net by the skin of their teeth, the mining asteroid was their last chance at a somewhat normal life. 

Once here they tried, like he and Zar had, to live their lives. But it was always with a desperate habit of looking over their shoulder for a mercenary or agent. It made them mean whenever a sense of uncertainty or upheaval entered those lives.

And the ASF did nothing else if it didn't dump a shit load of uncertainty and upheaval on a place. Add his own little guerilla war on the soldiers in the mines, (he managed not to kill any of the miners, but the ASF hadn't been so discriminating in who they'd blasted) and you had a riot waiting to happen. 

When a miner's child had been killed in an ASF round-up, all Hell had broken loose on Dee 7. The mines shut down, looters ran rampant and Molotov cocktails flew in every direction.

Chaos reigned.

And Richard B. Riddick knew how to use chaos to his advantage. It was as comfortable to him as a shiv in the hand.

So access to Bieti's office was ridiculously easy. No one stood guard and the door stood half-way open as light smoke poured through. Lights strobed and klaxons blared. Once inside fire retardant coated his skin as he walked cautiously through the room that held a desk and some utilitarian furniture.

The adjoining rooms door was completely open also. It's contents, like the room he was in, were obviously ransacked. Going through he was greeted by a sight that made him both rejoice and grit his teeth in anger.

Alphonse Bieti lay dead against the furthest wall. A miner's pick-ax imbedded in the middle of his forehead. A look of surprise etched into his blood covered face.

Riddick knelt down next the man who tried to destroy him. Feeling the rage gradually slide into disappointment as he studied his face. He had so wanted to hurt this man in a very bad way. Put him through the same pain and anguish and hopelessness that he'd put Zar through. 

But, as one of the his many foster mothers had told him, them's was the breaks. 

The grief tried to claw its way out of his throat and he had to bow his head to get control. It was then he saw it. The tube, the object that held his and Zar's child, was clutched in a literal death grip by Bieti's right hand.

And it was intact.

He tried to tear it from the dead man's fingers, but he had too strong a grip on it. That was easily solved by a scalpel laying on the floor. Two minutes later the corpse was missing five fingers from the first knuckle up and the stasis tube was safely tucked into his shirt. Its coolness a comfort against his skin.

He'd left the room without a backward glance.

With the breakdown of even basic safety protocols, it was absurdly easy to walk to the port section of the asteroid and steal a ship. His luck held when, after escaping and putting a good deal of distance between himself and Dee 7, he checked the cargo and discovered that he'd hit the jackpot.

The ship, "Marie's Ruin", held a smugglers dream of contraband liquor, clothing, drugs and other assorted goodies. He was going to be a very rich man once he was able to sell everything.

Five years ago this would've been his dream come true. Now, it just gave him a mild feeling of satisfaction. Material possessions meant little to him without Zar to share them with. 

The long days alone in the ship gave him time to think about what he was going to do with his life know. There was no where he really wanted to go, nothing he really wanted to do. Bieti hadn't wanted to take the chance on another agency getting their hands on him, so as far as the rest of the galaxy knew, with the exception of Audrey and Imam, Richard Riddick was still dead. 

So he drifted for a few months. Docked at some out of the way space port whenever he had an opportunity to sell the cargo. Played a few game of cards, drank a little, even had mindless sex occasionally with a clean prostitute. 

Each time his body had demanded the release. But, it return for the release, he got paid back with a sick feeling in his stomach. A reaction he knew was psychosomatic. His brain, and dick, might know that Zar was dead, but his soul still felt he was cheating on her. He knew she wouldn't have begrudged him. But it still felt too much like Miriam Gonzalez all over again.

It was while playing one the poker games with other nefarious characters that he won the farmstead he now lived on. When the guy had turned over the deed to him, he hadn't the faintest idea what to do with the property. Sell it probably.

Too bad he didn't know how to farm.

That's where Imam had come into the picture. He... 

"She needs new clothes. We should go into town. There are other supplies to get anyhow. Two birds with one stone, I figure." Audrey's hopeful voice severed his reverie. He couldn't blame her. The quiet of the farm brought him a degree of peace, but he could see how a twenty-year-old woman would need a change of scenery occasionally.

It had been a good two months since they had ventured into town. Whitson's Crossing, on the planet of New Concord, wasn't exactly a merc hotspot, but Richard avoided large gatherings if at all possible just to play it safe.

Turning towards the shed that housed their land transpo, he sighed just a little as he answered her. "Yeah, I know. You're right. Go get everyone and we'll head in." 

Audrey punched him lightly in the arm as she teased him, " C'mon Riddick, it won't be that bad!"

His only answer was a grumpy twist of the lips as he pulled his ever present goggles from his pockets and put them on in preparation for the short trip into town.

The journey didn't take long once Audrey had gathered Zarabeth, Hill and Imam. But Zarabeth and four-and-a-half-year-old Hill's irrepressible excitement at going into town, along with Audrey's constant pleas that they settle down, had made him edgy.

The idiot screaming and slapping around his woman did little to alleviate his condition. 

The couple had just come out of the general store as the family had arrived. He was a scraggly looking specimen. Skinny with patchy, greasy hair, he was laying into the woman with a venom that sounded as if it been habitual. The woman looked even worse. He could only see her from the back, but she wore khaki colored, dingy pants and pull-over top. Her feet were bare. Her close cropped hair, spiky with dirt, lay above a filthy neck. She let the man, who had what had to be a very painful grip on her arm, push and pull her around like a rag doll.

Guys like that always made Riddick nervous and wary. They had a tendency to attract the wrong kind of attention. Part of him wanted to bitch smack the man senseless. But the part of him that had made a survival an art form cautioned him that his and his family's life weren't worth the woman's. Besides, he knew any interference from him would just make it worse on the woman later.

"Stupid cunt! What did I tell you about touching stuff?!" His words were accompanied by a shove in her chest that sent her tripping backwards. She instinctively wobbled her body to keep from falling and Riddick wondered why she hadn't used her arms to help keep her balance. Then he realized her hands were probably constrained.

Whiplash rage tightened his muscles. Unconsciously he readied himself to give the sleaze bag the ass whopping of his life.

Riddick felt an arm go around his knees and looked down into Zarabeth's frightened face. The others stood as if frozen. Looks of mingled disgust, anger and fear showing on their faces. They didn't need to see this. Especially Zarabeth and Hill. 

"You and Hill go with Audrey and Imam. Go ahead, go into the store!" Gently he disengaged the little girls death grip, hauled her up and gave her to Imam. He wanted to kill the man just for the trembling he felt in his daughters body.

"Take them in. I'll be there in a minute." Even with his goggles on, Imam could tell Riddick was not happy with the situation. But the changes Zar and her love had made in him left him little alternative but to act. 

Waiting until the four of them were safely within the stores confines, he turned back to the couple. The woman hung her head and seemed to be breathing heavily. Why the hell didn't she fight back?! But he figured he knew why. Some people mind-fucked the survival instinct right out of themselves.

Hauling his arm back the man delivered a brutal back hand to the woman's face. "Why the fuck don't you ever learn?!" The blow sent her sprawling backwards, landing her face down on the ground at Riddick's feet.

The man moved in to deliver another blow, but he finally noticed the boots at which the stupid bitch had fallen. His eyes traveled up the long, muscular legs and torso, finally rising to the lightly bearded face. It was covering a caramel skinned, uncompromising visage. The top style buzz cut faded down to almost bare sides. Dressed in a dark gray vest over a red cotton top with matching dark gray pants, the giants arms were crossed over his large chest. Goggles hid his eyes, but the aura of danger let him know that this was not someone he wanted to fuck with.

He stopped with an primitive sense of survival, waiting to see what the muscle man would do. Sweat began to break out under his arms even though it was a cool day in Whitson's Crossing.

Riddick slowly reached down to gently pick up the woman. He wanted her out of the way before he beat the everlasting fuck out her boyfriend. He'd risk the attention of the authorities to teach the prick some lessons.

The woman had remained face down in the dirt. Not unconscious, but not coherent either evidently. He brought her to her knees then stopped. She seemed to cower like an oft beaten dog. Learning to deal with the abuse by presenting the smallest target possible. She hadn't made so much as a sound through the whole beating.

Something was wrong. No...that wasn't quite right. Something was...back. The echo that had been missing from his heart for four long, painful, hopeless years...started again. Thumping rhythmically, almost painfully, its beat of two souls irrevocably connected through love.

With shaking hands her reached for her chin. And lifted to his eyes a face that had filled his mind during the day and haunted his dreams at night.

"Zar?!"


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

He held her face in his hands. Neither one of them had made a move since he uttered her name in stupefaction. For the life of him he couldn't make himself do anything but stare at her face. A face that showed no recognition of him whatsoever. It was like looking into an empty mask. Her eyes dead of all emotion. Showing no fear of her handler, no happiness at seeing Riddick...nothing. She was dead inside and her body just didn't know it.

In all the years of being without her, he'd never once entertained the idea that she was alive. She was just in too bad of shape mentally. Physically she would've healed. Mentally, emotionally, she'd been fried. Without hope and deep in despair. It hadn't taken a giant leap of the imagination to know she'd gone to kill herself.

It would've been torture to think that she hadn't found peace in death, but rather was living a nightmare of pain and rage trapped inside a silent and near useless body. Without him. 

But the nightmare, at least for her, was a reality. How in the hell had she ended up with that ass wipe?!

Suddenly her face was ripped from his grip. Her whole body flying away from him and towards the man who was yanking her against his chest.

Slowly Riddick raised up to his full height. Watching in a deceptively casual way the man who'd signed his own death warrant. This man was NOT keeping Zar from him.

The idiot seemed oblivious to the fate that was staring at him as he lashed out. "Keep your hands to yourself, punk! Didn't anyone ever teach you not to touch someone else's property?" 

Riddick refrained from answering. Instead he looked around the street. It seemed relatively deserted. Only two or three people moving along on the other side of the street. Thoughts on their errands, not on the scene playing itself out a few blocks down. It was the quite time of day. Most of the families working, the kids in their homes doing their computer curriculum.

Losing patience waiting for a reply to his obnoxious comment from the 'Thug' (as he had tagged him), the man turned and started to drag Zar towards the small towns landing port. Mumbling dire threats of punishments in her ear as her body tried to keep up. He looked behind him once and fumbled a bit when he saw the street was empty. 

Where had the Thug gone?! Even the store front was too far for him to have gone into in the few seconds he and the woman had turned towards the ship. A very bad feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach. The man had obviously known the worthless piece of humanity he was dragging along with him. Recognition had been in every line of his body as he touched the woman. He wasn't just some do-gooder, that was for fucking sure.

In the four years David Flowers found her slowly bleeding to death from self-inflicted wounds in the cargo hold of his ship, three days out of Dee 7, she'd never uttered one word. She'd looked a mess...wrists cut, sores suppurating, dehydrated. But the entrepreneur in him saw a chance to make a some credits. He was going to sell her but he decided he was in the market for a slave himself. Slavery was technically illegal, but there were ways around the law. Especially if you were handy with the bribe money.

So he stopped the bleeding, tried to clean her up. At first nothing seemed to work. The bleeding had stopped easily. But the sores wouldn't go away and she seemed to slide closer to death. Then, a week later, when he was about to give up and just kill her to get her the fuck out of his way, she awoke. Completely healed in all but mind. She refused, or been unable, to answer any questions he yelled at her. He needed to know if anyone was coming looking for her eventually. But she was evidently just a burn out. 

So he named her Bitch and made her his. She was only good for so much. Washing clothes, making basic meals, that sort of basic thing. He was bisexual with a strong masochistic streak so sex with her wasn't very appealing. With the amount of resistance she showed in his treatment of her, fucking her would've been like screwing the dead. For him, it was no fun without the fighting and the fear.

Most of the time he had to tell her what to do. She was too burned out or too lazy to take the initiative. When first finding her, he had to show how to dress herself, eat, even wipe her ass after taking a shit. But she was an available punching bag. And her upkeep was almost nil. A couple of meals a day, clothes a few times a year. Left more money for him.

The only thing he had to do was keep her restrained or tied when he wasn't able to keep an eye on her. She had a tendency to walk away aimlessly if he didn't. 

The best thing about her was her sturdiness. She never seemed to get ill or hurt. On Stalos, a God forsaken piss-ant of an Arctic-like trading post, he'd drunkenly left her tethered outside the ship all night. Waking up twelve hours later to find her missing, he remembered where he'd left her. Pissed at himself for losing an investment not easily replaced, he went outside expecting to find her frozen stiff in death. Instead he found her sitting on the ground with the just the barest hint of frostbite. And even that had healed with a few hours of getting her inside.

It was almost like owning one of the human looking robots everyone said was coming sooner or later. Low maintenance, little overhead and best of all, easy to take out his frustrations on. 

Approaching his ship, he quickly hustled her up into the vessel. Throwing her to the floor and racing for the pilots cabin after making sure the door was secured. A nasty fission of fear crawling down his spine told him that getting the hell out of Whitson's Crossing was as necessary as breathing. If you wanted to live, you made sure you did it.

He was going through the pre-flight list in a state of sweaty urgency. The computerized voice acknowledging each step a drone that did little to help his concentration. But at least it meant he was that much closer to leaving.

He was reaching for the seats safety harness when the ship lost all power. Every board went black and every system quit humming. The only light available coming from the cockpits two large viewing windows. The abrupt lack of sound felt evil and heavy with malignant purpose. He knew he wasn't alone and he knew the other person wasn't Bitch.

Fear held him paralyzed in his seat for a few seconds. But the sound of the door behind him sliding back had him lunging for the blaster taped under the seat. 

He never made it.

His swivel captains seat twirled in a dizzyingly hundred and eighty degree angle. Two well muscled columns trapped him into his seat as their matching hands rested on the arms of the seat. His face only inches from a visage straight from hell.

"What's the name?" Riddick stared at the sweaty piece of shit with his un-goggled eyes. Their cold, silvery depths promising death. The question had been put forth in an almost courteous tone of voice. He knew the brute show of force and the politely spoken question mingled and left the person the focus of the concoction nervous. And uncertain.

But evidently the man who'd been using and abusing Zar wasn't that in tune to the warnings that should've been screaming down his every nerve ending. The answering "Fuck you!" was accompanied by an attempted kneeing in the groin. It would've been a good strategy if Riddick hadn't felt the man gathering himself to attack. But since he knew it was coming, he easily deflected it by grabbing the desperate mans throat and squeezing tightly. Flowers flopped around, frantically trying to get air as his hands tried to pull the vise from his throat.

When his eyes started to roll back into his head Riddick let the pressure up some. Enough for Flowers to get some gulps of coughing air.

"Once again...what's the name?"

To weak to do anything but comply, he gave in with a roughly rasped response, "David Flowers."

"Where did you get her?"

Knowing playing dumb would just cause more pain, so he didn't even try. 

"On Dee 7. I didn't snatch her or anything man! I found her in my hold. Honest! Nobody came looking for her or anything! How was I to know? Shit man, I saved her! She was bleeding like a stuck pig when I found her. She cut her self up something fierce, lost a lot of blood. Probably why she's so whacked now. Blood loss can do that to some people."

He wasn't sure if his answers were the right ones or not. Nothing showed on the Thugs face.

"You fuck her?" The tone became more polite, it was even accompanied by a small smile. But the dangerousness of the situation, and the man standing over him, had finally cut its way through to Flowers' brain. The need to inflict pain was radiating off of the Thug in bright, hot waves. 

"No, man! I swear it. Not into the broken type, ya know? Bit...I mean...she hasn't said 'boo' to me the whole time she's been with me. Her minds gone! Just a walking bag of flesh and bones. No zip in there at all."

"That why you beat her?"

Every cell in Flowers body said to "Run!", but the hand on throat suddenly tightened in warning.

The lack of air had him whispering desperately, "She's clumsy, man! Ya know how these skag burn outs can get! Hell, she'd walk away to nowhere if I didn't tie her up. She just falls a lot too, so I get fed up sometimes...but I don't really hurt her or anything! Honest, big man!" He tried to smile at end, hoping it added a bit of sincerity to his lies. But as he kept talking The Thugs eyes became deader. He was not buying the bullshit. 

He was going to die.

His bladder opened and his brain pleaded with him to beg for his life. He was basically a dyed in the wool coward, and meeting death with dignity was beyond his abilities. 

"Please...don't kill me. Please..." His words were broken off by the abrupt snapping of his neck. 

Riddick slowly rose from his bent position over the dead man on the chair. He hadn't harmed a hair on anybody's head in the four years since he'd left Dee 7. But the ability, and ease, in killing someone had never left him. He asked himself if it was nice to know something's never change? Or was it just sad? No wise thoughts came to him on the subject, so he just let it pass.

Turning away he went in search of Zar. She was where Flowers had thrown her. Sitting on the floor with her hands tied. She hadn't looked up at his approach, but started to rock softly. A gesture that reminded him of Zarabeth whenever she tried to comfort herself after a crying jag. It made him want to go back and kill Flowers all over again. Very slowly.

Going to his haunches in front of her he undid the binds on her hands. Once again he gently gripped her chin. The rocking stopped. Bringing her face around to his, he noticed that she kept her eyes focused somewhere just behind him. 

She looked like shit. There was no other way to put it. She'd lost weight but her face was still as round as he remembered. Dark circles ringed her dead blue eyes. He'd seen corpses with more life in their gazes than she had. He wondered if that was the feeling people got when they looked at his own eyes.

She might come back a little with some TLC. She might also be as good as she was going to get. He knew she would never be the Zar of old.

Fuck! She'd hate being like this. But...

Running a finger over her cheek, he came to a decision. 

For all the notice she'd given him previously, he didn't expect the slight hitch in her breathing when he bent his mouth to her ear. It brought back precious memories of times that seemed eons ago. She had always liked him to blow in her ear. Enjoyed the shivers it sent down her spine.

It gave him hope. For better or worse, it gave him hope. The only problem with hope is that hope could be a disappointing bitch.

"I don't know if you can hear me in there, Zar. But I'm taking you home with me. Taking you home to your daughter, your friends, your man. If you are in there, help me, baby. I need you...God, how I need you." He hoped God was listening.

Carefully he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She was broken in body and soul but she was still his Zar. And even if she didn't realize what she was doing, when she laid the side of her face his chest, it felt right. 

Slowly he raised them both up to their feet. "Wait here." She made no acknowledgement of his order. But he hadn't really expected one. She just stood there liked a good little zombie.

He made his way back into the pilots cabin that reeked of fresh death. Stopping to glare at, then spit on the dead man in the chair. 

It didn't take long to rig the self-destruct.

He led her to the door with her hand in his. Once outside he had them walking toward the store with purpose. When the ship blew, neither he nor Zar so much as blinked an eye.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

"Give her some more time."

He turned his head away from watching Zar to look at Audrey. The look on his face must've reflected his feelings because she was smiling slightly, as if to give him hope. But after three weeks, hope was pretty much gone.

The whole family had come running out of Genesco's General Store at the sound of the ship blowing up. The fear on their faces quickly turning to relief when they saw him striding towards them. Then their gazes had turned to Zar in puzzlement. It hadn't been surprising that they didn't recognize her in her filthy and semi-catatonic state.

Being out in the open with a large, noisy fire not far from their location made Richard nervous. He'd been about to move the lot of them towards their transport when Audrey had recognized Zar and whispered her name much as he had earlier. Imam's mouth had almost comically fallen open as he too beheld a supposedly dead woman. When the truth had finally sunk in, he'd started raising his arms and praising Allah in loud shouts. Zar had continued to stare ahead at the nothing right over Audrey's shoulder. Lost in her own little world.

Richard hadn't given the rapidly deteriorating situation a chance to get even more out of control. He hustled the whole lot of them to the transport and took off as soon as possible. Strapping the unresisting Zar into the front seat next to him, he promised Audrey and Imam he'd fill them in once they arrived safely at the farmstead. That hadn't stopped Audrey from bombarding Zar with questions and from behind hugs. He understood only too well the astonished young woman's need to touch Zar.

But as the questions continued and no responses came, Audrey had started to realize that something was very wrong with Zar. He'd been grateful when Imam, obviously sensing Richard's strained silence, asked Audrey to hold the inquisition until they got home. Compassion fought a hard battle with curiosity, but it finally won. 

It had been one of the longest rides home Richard could recall. Plenty of time to remember.

He hadn't been particularly thrilled at winning the farm in that fateful card game. But as he slept that night, he'd had a dream of living on the farm. The deed included a hologram program showing what the buildings and the land around it looked like. A house, a barn, a mini-fuel refinery and a couple of storage sheds dotted land surrounded by a forest on three sides. The farmable land was only a few hundred acres, enough to subsist on, but not enough to get rich off of. Which was why the loser had been willing to give it up even though it had been in his family for fifty years.

The colony of Whitson's Crossing, on the planet of New Concord, was just too far off the beaten trading path to ever truly be successful. Nevertheless, the few people, mostly descendents of the original colonists that settled there, eked out a living in relative peace from the low-life's of the galaxy and the ASF. Nothing ever exciting happened there anyway.

The dream had left him with a vague ache in the vicinity of his heart. Peace and boredom sounded wonderful to him at that moment. Something completely different from the life he'd led so far. He could never replace the life he'd had with Zar, but maybe another kind of home would do. 

No sooner had the thought occurred when an image of Audrey's face had popped into his head. 

He hadn't really questioned himself on why it was so important to get the family together again. A part of him was doing it because he knew Zar would've wanted it. The other part just missed them. He missed Audrey's smart aleck remarks and come backs. Imam's gentle yet stubborn belief in the goodness of God. Hill's small, warm body as it nestled against his as he slept. Oh...he knew they would be older and changed by now. Too much time, over a year, had passed for that not to be the case. But they, along with the stasis tube that held his child, were the only things that linked him to Zar. He didn't want the link broken.

So he contacted Imam. With the galaxy still under the assumption that Richard B. Riddick was dead, getting a message to Imam and Audrey was easy. As long as it was done discreetly and under a false name. Rick Miller was unusable. So Robert Farmer (his little idea of a joke) was born. 

He was relieved at finding an ecstatically happy Audrey still with Imam, taking care of Hill while finishing her much delayed formal education. They had assumed Zar was still with him. He hadn't the patience to go into the long story via vid screen. He knew that once they arrived, the truth would be out soon enough.

Both cleric and teen-ager had been more than happy to come to New Concord to start life over. New Mecca was nice, but they had missed Zar and Richard also. For Audrey, her memories of Polaris Station were some of the happiest of her young life. And after losing the boys entrusted to his care on Taurus 2, Imam wasn't about to lose another child. Where Audrey and Hill went, he went. Period. And besides, he missed his favorite hobby...farming. On New Mecca he found employment as a store manager, too frightened of notice to put his agri-engineering degree to use. It more than paid for the care of the children, but it did little to satisfy the need to feel good, rich dirt on his hands.

While the three of them made plans to make the year long journey to rendezvous with him on New Concord, Richard had plans of his own to make. He needed a surrogate to be impregnated with his and Zar's child. He found a desperate young widow. She and her husband had been on their way to a mining planet when they stopped to get supplies on the Remir 8 outpost. The husband had been bitten by the gambling bug. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at it. He'd lost everything and then some within a matter of days. Too cowardly to face his wife, he'd killed himself. Leaving her to make her way as best as she could. She found a sympathetic barkeep willing to give her a job as a waitress. But her scum of a husband had left a lot of unpaid, very scary men. The time when she would have to turn to prostitution was approaching quickly.

Her name was Melinda Previschak. Richard had seen her on one of his many trips to the bar. She was passably pretty, but even more important, she was clean. No drugs, no venereal disease or such. She was just a good woman caught in a bad situation not of her making. She seemed desperate enough to go for the whole surrogate situation. He was right. She jumped at the opportunity to stave off prostitution as long as possible.

In return for paying off her dead husband's debts and paying for her upkeep, she would carry and give birth to the child. After the birth, whether successful or not, he would pay her a lump sum of credits as a bonus. He made sure she understood where she stood. He wasn't in the market for a wife or girlfriend. Just a working female body to give birth to his child.

They found a quack doctor to perform the simple procedure to implant the embryo. For the next nine months Richard made sure she had the best of everything possible. They were in bum fuck egypt, but money still bought a lot. She moved in with him on the Marie's Ruin. It let him keep an eye on her safety and health. They never grew anywhere near being close. Her husbands betrayal embedding a distrust of men permanently in her psyche. For Richard, something burned deep every time he let himself realize that a woman who was not Zar was thick with her child. It was best for both to keep their distance.

When Zarabeth was born, he was there. She came out kicking and screaming fiercely. A healthy, pink, squalling beauty that demanded his attention. She was the most divine creature ever to draw breath. He knew at that moment that he had never loved anything or anyone more. Even his amazing love for her mother seemed mild compared to the feeling filling him up from the heart out. He named her Zarabeth in honor of her mother and her half-sister. In her, they both came back to life. 

He'd known Elizabeth only in her mother's memories. Very sad memories for the most part. Her tragic and brutal death forever coloring Zar's recollections. But her name also served as a reminder to him to never let down his guard against Fate and her whimsical twists. Zar had lost Elizabeth and he had lost Zar to Fate's sick sense of humor, he wasn't losing Zarabeth.

She was his. Forever. 

Six weeks later she'd been weaned from Melinda (he never once thought of her as being Zarabeth's mother) and they were on their way to New Concord. Melinda had made vague noises about trying to keep her. But it had only taken one look into Richard's cold, silver eyes, along with his quietly spoken promise to kill her, to shut her up. He'd never told her the reason he hired her for surrogate duty. And though he had treated her well in a detached sort of way, she had never really found the courage to ask. There was something too cold and hard about him to risk the inquiry. 

Caring for Zarabeth had been no problem. He'd been saddled enough times with baby-sitting the younger foster home kids as a youth to know the basics. A time when life hadn't quite beat him down and started him on the road to hell.

He made sure his arrival and subsequent visits to the colony were low key. The people were quiet farming folk. They weren't the type to go looking for adventure in their own backyards, but rather left the colony altogether if life became too boring. The farmstead had been in decent shape and soon he and Zarabeth were living a quiet life. He had plenty of credits to keep them in comfort. In fact, he probably wouldn't have to farm the land at all if he didn't want to.

But he did for some reason. What that reason was, and its emotional complications, he refused to dwell on.

He and the baby had been on the farm a few weeks when the rest of the family arrived. Audrey had hugged him so hard he thought she might have cracked a rib. Imam, once Audrey had managed to release her stranglehold, had embraced him also and praised Allah for his benevolence. Hill had been the biggest shock. Richard's memories had been of a little shit that barely made himself felt as he slept on the much bigger mans chest. Now he was a rambunctious toddler on a constant tear. Life with Imam and Audrey had obviously suited him. Zar had been right to send them to him.

The news of Zar's torture and death hit both of them hard. But Audrey had been especially effected. Richard knew by her shaking and tears that she had built of a fantasy life for Zar and himself. The fact that she had done so hadn't particularly surprised him. Some people, like himself, became mean and hard when life rained it's crap down. Others, like Imam, turned to religion to give them the strength to get through. But many were like Audrey. Self-delusion helped them cope. And hey...who was he to judge one method above another? Whatever kept you together, body and soul.

Zarabeth had been as much a comfort to Audrey as she was to her father. Richard hadn't wanted Audrey to feel tied down or obligated to take care of both Hill and Zarabeth. She grown into her looks and had become a beautiful, smart young woman with a lot of potential. The children were his responsibilities now. If Audrey wanted to go live her life, he'd make sure she would have the money and freedom to do so.

But the seventeen year old had seemed to need the kids as much as they needed her. Something relaxed in him when knew that Audrey would be contributing her female softness to his male toughness in Zarabeth's upbringing. He'd been worried that with just him doing the raising, the little girl would end up as fucked as he'd been. He wanted her to be like her mother, beautiful in spirit with a loving touch but tough when the going got ugly. With Audrey along for the ride, there was a much better chance of that happening.

Life had settled down quickly. Richard and Imam had taken up the day to day running of the farm with Imam making most of the trips to Whitson's Crossing. Audrey took care of the children while finishing out her final years of education via computer classes. The children flourished and so did the farm. It reminded him of the old time communes that had been tried on Earth in latter half of the twenty-first century. The ones where all the adults were responsible for raising a child, not just the parents. 

If it ever became boring, all the adults had do to was remind themselves that exciting often equaled terrifying. The perfect example being their respective times incarcerated and on the run. And of their shared agonizing experience on Taurus 2.

Nope...if they had their choice between exciting and boring, boring would win hands down every time.

But now Zar was back and nothing would be the same. There was not going to be the fairy-tale happy ending that both Imam and Audrey seemed to expect.

For the most part, Zar was still the unresponsive person he'd found on that ship. Though she had thawed somewhat after getting a couple of days of cleanliness, food and sleep. After Flowers assertion that she had a tendency to wander, Richard had stayed up a couple of nights to watch over her. But she had stayed put. Some instinct to escape Flowers mistreatment must've been why she wandered away previously. 

She still wouldn't talk or meet anyone's eyes but would rather cast furtive, wary glances when she thought no one was watching. But Richard saw. He saw the fear, the uncertainty...and the inability to express them. 

But on the bright side, she didn't act like a zombie anymore. She helped out with the house work and some minor chores around the farm. She ignored the children altogether. A telling response in it's very resoluteness. They affected her on some level. Some level she wasn't willing to deal with. Richard was betting it was the old Zar's love of children trying to make itself known.

Hill didn't seem to care too much one way or the other. Audrey was really the only mother he knew. But Zarabeth was absolutely fascinated by the stranger among them. She'd stand quietly (that in itself was remarkable) and watch while Zar did the dishes or some other household chore. She wasn't allowed in the equipment strewn barn, so when Zar was in there she'd sit on the porch and wait patiently for the object of her affection to come out. 

Richard had wondered occasionally what their daughter had inherited from her unique parents. From the genetic manipulation at the very heart of the experiment that WAS her. Watching her watch Zar, he thought maybe the child had inherited some sixth sense that let her know that Zar was her mother. Stranger things had happened.

He had tried to talk to Zar. Reassure her that she was safe now. She'd just sat there looking at the floor. He'd even hugged her. But it had been like embracing a statue. She didn't try to stop him, but she didn't exactly put out the welcome mat either. She had yet to speak one word.

Now she was sitting out in the flower and herb garden Audrey had planted not long after arriving on New Concord. It seemed to be her favorite place. Once in awhile she even closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun. But she never smiled, so he was just guessing that it was a preferred spot.

The whole situation was frustrating the ever-living fuck out of him. What in the hell was he supposed to do for her?! He knew it wasn't her fault she was like this. It was the trauma and after effects of the Profearaben. But for the ever-fucking-love-of-God...what was he supposed to do?!

He knew what he wanted wasn't ever going to happen. That one day, any day, she would wake up and be the woman he loved. As it was right now, there wasn't even anything about her that he could remotely identify as being the quintessential Zar. He wanted to touch her. Just touch her. Not necessarily in a sexual way, although being with her again would've been heaven. He just wanted to sleep with her in his arms. Wake up to her smell...her smile. Her.

But touching her now seemed somehow dirty. As if he was molesting a coma patient or something. In his former life...well...he wasn't sure if that would've stopped him. But he wanted more than physical release with her. He wanted her eyes alive with the wanting of him, when he buried himself in her. She obviously didn't remember anything of her former life. All the memories she had were of Flowers. Richard was sure those weren't fond memories.

The whole ugly situation left him in one great big sullen and frustrated knot. 

Fuck.

Staring at Audrey's hopeful face, he couldn't bring himself to even try and play Mr. Optimism. "I don't think so, kid." Even though she was now a grown woman, he still called her that. She never seemed to mind. "She is what she is. Which is a great big gaping whole of nothing. We might have to start accepting that. Treat her like brand new person. We're just confusing her now with all this TLC bullshit. She's alive and..."

A screamed ripped the air. Whipping their heads back towards where Zar was sitting. She was gone.

The scream sounded again. A scream of pain.

Richard took off running towards the forest next to the garden. Audrey started out right behind him, but soon was outdistanced. She knew it was more than just the Profearaben making him fast. It was desperation. The scream hadn't come from Zar.

It had was the scream of a child in pain...a female child.

Zarabeth.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

He came upon them in the marshy clearing. Zarabeth was on her back in the ankle deep water. Screaming and struggling against Zar. Struggling against her mother, who for all intents and purposes, seemed to be trying to drown her child.

The rage clicked on inside him. He practically heard the sound of the switch being flipped. Since Zar's return, he wondered occasionally that if push came to shove and he had to decide between his daughter and her mother, who would he pick. The fury pouring through his body gave him the answer. 

He understood that Zar could not help who she was, what she was. But the cold hard truth was that she was no longer the woman he once loved more than life itself. Their past relationship would always have a deep hold on him, but it would not stand between him and the love he had for their daughter. He would not let Zarabeth be the sacrificial lamb of her mothers madness. The fiery breath of the serpent, that which was a person under the influence of Profearaben, would not scorch his daughter.

Zar was on her knees next to the fighting child. She had grabbed Zarabeth's legs and was trying to raise them in order to force the small head back and therefore under the water. Between Zarabeth's struggles and the slipperiness of the grimy water, Zar was having a hard time getting a sure enough grip.

Richard had no such problem with traction when he grabbed Zar by the throat from behind. His grip was secure and crushing. He raised her body from Zarabeth's, feeling the muscles and cartilage in her throat begin to rip under his intractable grasp. 

A small part inside of him wondered how he could do this to the woman who had shown him a world he had never dreamed existed. A woman who had not only saved his life, but his very soul. Who had made him the man capable of raising their daughter. But the rage had taken him over. And the small voice that was his heart breaking bowed under the pressure of fear for his child's life. 

He might have choked her until her blood ran through his fingers if Zarabeth hadn't let loose another scream of pain. Instead he tossed Zar across the swamp. Not even watching to see her limp body land half-in, half-out of the water.

"God, no! Riddick what are you doing?!" Audrey had arrived just in time to see him throw Zar. Her anguished shout lost on him as he knelt next to Zarabeth.

The child was still crying and writhing. "It's okay Zarabeth, she's gone. I won't let her hurt you." But his words were obviously not getting through to the terrified child. Audrey, still torn on whether to see to Zar or the little girl, finally knelt next to Zarabeth. The very ferocity of the child's screams and struggling letting her know that there was something more going on here than a potential drowning. 

She saw the blood in the water a split second before Richard tried to pick up Zarabeth. "No! Don't pick..." But she was too late. He tried to pick up the toddler to hold and comfort her. Instead she let out a piercing shriek as he tried to raise her from the water. He couldn't seem to bring her body any closer to his.

"Riddick stop! She's caught in a trap!" Many farmers used the contraptions to catch crop destroying animals. A swamp was an unusual place for one, but maybe an animal had dragged one in as it tried to escape. 

With a strength she didn't know she had, Audrey ripped the little girl from her father's arms and put her back into the water. She had fainted from the pain and was lying unresisting in Audrey's arms. 

Richard felt his heart stop. He had survived many things, his self-survival instinct honed to fine degree. A beast within him that made him live even when he didn't want to. But he wasn't sure if he could survive losing Zarabeth. In the brackish water quickly streaking with blood, she looked so small, so pale, so...dead.

Then it hit him. Zar hadn't been trying to kill Zarabeth, she'd been trying to save her! He'd crushed her throat...killed the woman he once loved...and she'd only been trying...

Painfully grabbing his arm, Audrey shouted "Riddick! Did you hear me?! We need to get her out of the trap and back to the farm!" She had only seen the dazed, helpless look on Riddick's face once before. On Polaris Station when he thought Elson Brenner had choked Zar to death. Zarabeth was hurt too badly for Audrey to think about the irony of the current situation. 

Whether it was her shout or her touch, she succeeded in awakening him from his shock. Reaching down he felt under the water at Zarabeth's feet. With her unconscious and not struggling, finding the trap was easy. The little girls feet slipped free when he hit the release mechanism.

Her ankles were two swollen mounds of butchered flesh. But he didn't see any bone sticking up, so hopefully...

As he gathered the most precious thing in his life up in his arms he prayed to a God he didn't much have use for. LET HER LIVE, TAKE HER FEET IF YOU HAVE TO, BUT PLEASE...PLEASE!...DON'T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME.

Rising to his feet he turned towards the farm.

Audrey looked back to where Zar had landed. "What about Zar?"

No answer came from Richard's fast retreating back.

"Riddick! What about Zar?! We can't just leave her like this! She needs help!" 

If Audrey could've seen Richard face she would've fallen to her knees in painful sympathy. There were tears streaking down his face though he didn't feel them. And damned if he would've known if they were for his daughter or her mother. All he knew is that he'd made one too many terrible mistakes. 

There would be no redemption from this heinous act. There would be no Zar to take the ugliness away. To make him clean again. What kind of man killed without making sure he was interpreting the facts correctly? What kind of man killed a woman who he'd laughed with, fought with, made love with, been reborn in? 

The answer whispered through his mind...a man who never belonged with the human race. A man who never learned that he didn't belong anywhere...period.

As he hurried away from the swamp he felt the old Riddick laugh inside his head. 

TOLD YA!

The practical side of him made him answer Audrey, "Leave her. She's dead. Zarabeth needs taken care of." The voice coming out of his mouth was calm. While inside the winds of hell were turning his heart into charred rock. He would think about Zar later. After he was sure his child was going to be okay.

Audrey had been horrified at seeing Riddick throw Zar across the swamp. Never a friendly man he nevertheless had been a much kinder, softer person since she and the rest of the family had come back to him. It was all Zarabeth's doing. She was sure of that. Look what raising Hill had turned her into. 

Once a terrified, gawky kid, she had become a fiercely protective mother. If Hill's biological mother, Toni, had tried to come back and kill him, Audrey was sure she would've had no problem in killing Toni first. Even if she later found out that she was wrong in reading Toni's intentions. Still, she never would've believed him capable of killing Zar. She knew him well enough to know that it was eating him alive inside. Not that he would ever show it. That episode of blankness would be the only hint that all was not right in Riddick's soul.

With a longing glance back at Zar, Audrey knew Riddick was right. There was nothing to be done for her friend. Maybe there'd been nothing to do for her since they'd found her. She'd been like the walking dead for four years. She wouldn't have wished for Zar the type of death she'd been given but maybe actual death was the best thing. 

Zar's continued distance had been turning Richard back into the Riddick of old. His frustration at not being able to help her making him turn away from the gifts she had bestowed upon him. Audrey guessed he felt a degree of guilt for not being able to 'save' Zar the way Zar had 'saved' him.

Audrey too started crying as she walked away from the body on the edge of the swamp. There was a child to save now. The old Zar would've demanded that her daughter come first. Even if it meant her own death as a result. There'd be time to mourn her, and everything her death meant, later. 

When Audrey arrived back at the house she saw that chaos reigned. The door was wide open to the dining room where the floor was littered with food and broken dishes. Stuff hastily cleared off the dining table where Zarabeth now lay motionless. Hill was sobbing hysterically while Imam kept asking Riddick what had happened. Riddick ignored him, intent on surveying the mangled flesh of his daughter ankles.

Moving to the sink area Audrey quickly filled a bowl with water adding disinfectant. Bringing it over to Riddick, along with some clean cloths, she watched while he tenderly cleaned off the blood and muck. 

"It's not as bad as I thought. She has some pretty deep cuts but it doesn't look like there's anything broken."

Imam hovered over the top of the table asking "Should I get a doctor?"

As he continued to clean Zarabeth's wounds Richard contemplated the question. The little girls breathing was normal and she was quickly gaining color. Her skin was warm and her pulse fast but steady. Those things, along with the medical equipment he brought to New Concord when first arriving, made him believe there was nothing he couldn't do that a doctor could. He had medical training of his own, courtesy of his time in the ASF. She'd lost blood, but he had a few packs of replicated blood in his supplies. That, along with the Ravi Knitter, should be plenty.

"No...I have everything here we'll need. It's stored in the black container in the barn...under the loft." Glancing at the sobbing Hill he looked back at Imam and said " Why don't you take Hill and get them for me." 

Imam scooped up the unprotesting child and hurried out of the room.

Richard kept wiping the slowly oozing blood from the wounds. Relieved almost to the point of weakness to know that Zarabeth wasn't in danger of dying. There'd been enough death that day. The thought reminded him of Zar lying in the swamp. Out of all the ugly, horrible, soul destroying things he'd seen in his life, he doubt he'd ever forget the sight of her body lying in the murky water. Or the feel of her throat crushing under his grip.

Without looking up at Audrey he told her "I'll explain everything to Imam. Once Zarabeth's cleaned and patched up...I'll go see to Zar." Taking a deep breath he raised his eyes to Audrey's . "I'm sorry Jack."

Knowing the use of her nickname showed how close he was to breaking, she couldn't bring herself to reject his apology. Zar's death would hurt all of them but Riddick most of all. To have lost her, then find her, just to lose her again so quickly...

Reaching over she squeezed the hand that was lovingly brushing the wet hair from Zarabeth's face.

"You didn't know. She's been so different since you found her. There was always the air of...I don't know...like she was always on edge. Like there was a possibility of violence if the wrong thing were to happen." Looking down at the little girl on the table she had to admit, "I probably would've done the same thing. If I could've."

Once Imam came back with the medical supplies, along with a much calmer Hill, sewing the cuts and replacing the lost blood took a few hours. Richard was glad Zarabeth was out for most of the time. Only stirring when the blood filling her veins was almost done.

She started crying and fretting almost immediately. He administered a light pain reliever / sedative then gathered her in his arms and started to rock her to sleep. It took a while until finally she succumbed. But he still didn't immediately let her go. The scare of almost losing her making a need in him to feel her alive. But the vision of Zar lying in the swamp kept flashing in his mind, so he finally left Zarabeth to her sleep.

He gave Imam a short version of events. Sparing himself no blame. He expected the holy to give him hell but Imam had just praised Allah that Zarabeth was okay and tried to hug Richard. Only Richard's cold, silvery stare stopping him in his tracks. Imam had seen so much good in the escapee that he sometimes forgot that he lived with a stone cold killer. A man many considered a psychopath. But even the shined eyes of a very inimical man couldn't hide the pain hiding just behind them.

Richard saw the pity in Imam's eyes and knew he didn't deserve it. Zar deserved the pity. The real shame was that she wasn't alive to receive it.

"I'm going to bury Zar. And no, I don't want any help. Keep an eye on Zarabeth. You know where I'll be if you need me. I should only be an hour or so." With those parting words he left the house.

Imam thought he looked like a man with the weight of the world on his very broad shoulders.

Making his way to the swampy clearing, Richard took his time. Girding himself to deal with what he knew he would see on arriving. Zar's body. Dead. Cold. Murdered. There...he said the word. He'd murdered Zar. No matter what his state of mind or motives, it was murder.

Twilight had just settled over the land when he came to the clearing. Taking off his goggles he stepped to the edge of the water. Blinked rapidly several times.

Zar was gone.

Where he had tossed her body was now only an empty depression in the reeds and mud. Walking slowly around to the spot, he went to his haunches. Touched the spot where she'd been. An animal must've smelled death and came for the carrion. Dragged her away. Nature's way of dealing with messes. But there were no drag marks. And the nearest neighbor was a good thirty minute walk away. So that left no option for human intervention.

A thought occurred to him. She had Profearaben running through her veins. Probably had more of it in her than he did. 

What if he hadn't killed her?!

What if she had only been seriously wounded and had come to, then dragged herself away to safety, a natural first instinct?

It had been almost eight hours since the attack. He himself would've been well on his way to healing. Zar, with her greater dose of Profearaben, would be even farther along. Maybe even conscious.

Trusting this wasn't his mind giving him false hope so he would stop blaming himself, he stood up and surveyed the darkened area. 

His altered vision let him see various living creatures scurrying around the forests edge. All of them much smaller than Zar. He opened his sense of hearing and smell. Taking advantage of the gifts he'd never asked for. Maybe for once they'd be welcome. 

Something was in the air, he could taste it on his tongue. But he couldn't quite place it. Was it Zar? Fours years ago he could've located her with his nose blocked, his ears plugged and his eyes blindfolded. Just tasting the air with his tongue for her unique scent would've been enough. But now, with her being altered...

But one thing hadn't changed since she'd come back...the mysterious tandem beating of their hearts. He was so used to it now, after having lost it four years ago, that he didn't even notice that it hadn't left him when he'd thrown her across the swamp.

She WAS alive!

"Zar!"

No answer. She'd been mute since the day he took her from Flowers ship, but even so, he did he really expect a response?! He fucking tried to kill her! Turned her throat to pulp on the inside. She had to be in pain and terrified. Of him. Hell...Flowers hadn't even done this to her.

He moved further into the forest. Scanning the undergrowth for good hiding spots. He came across a small puddle of blood. Probably from her vomiting the blood that had leaked into her stomach from the trauma inflicted on her throat. The added pain must've been horrific.

What had the events done to her state of mind? She'd been somewhat better since coming to live with them. Had the attack sent her back to being a zombie? Was she even now rocking herself silly against some tree? Alone, hurt, terrified?

Frantic he searched the forest around the swamp. Certain she couldn't have run far in her condition. An hour later he was back at the clearing. The trail of blood leading him back to where it had started. She was going in circles. Out of her mind with pain and fear? Or enraged and trying to kill him?

What had he done? What had he fucking done to her?! 

Frantic questions bombarded his mind.

Had he pushed her over the edge that she'd teetered on for four long years? Was she now one those animals that the Profearaben turned his fellow soldiers into? Would she try to rampage and kill before self-destructing? Would he now be forced to truly kill her?

The thoughts drove him to his knees in self-loathing. Oblivious to the water and mud soaking through his pants. Grief and regret making him bow his head in hopelessness. He lifted it in a last ditch hope of entreating, for Zar's sanity, the God who saved Zarabeth.

She stood before him.

The Profearaben made her as quiet as him when moving in stealth mode. He hadn't even felt the air move.

His eyes met hers.

Her face was a blank, giving no clue as to her state of mind. Blood ran down one corner of her mouth. It's trail a darker pink on her whitish face. The bruises on her swollen neck interpreted as dark splotches by his eyes. She was wet and covered with mud from lying in the swamp. She looked like she had clawed her way out of a grave.

Was she in truth a psychopath now? Or just a wounded animal? Was there anything human left in her?

There was only one way to find out. If she attacked it was only what he deserved. But he couldn't let her kill him. Not when she might go for the others.

Holding out his hand he could only say one thing and hope she knew he meant it with every fiber of his being. 

"I'm sorry."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

His mind went from sleep to complete wakefulness in the time it took to take a breath. Something had disturbed him. He knew it wasn't the thunderstorm raging outside in the night sky. 

Every sense was on alert as the instincts he had finely honed through out the years screamed that he was no longer alone in the room. It made his body tighten with an almost indiscernible reaction. Readying itself for action.

He was on his stomach in the bed, with his face turned away from the bedroom door. He never used to sleep that way, but he'd become somewhat complacent in the last few weeks. So his barely open eyes couldn't tell him who was in the room with him.

But his heightened sense of smell did.

It was Zar. He could smell the body soap she used to wash with, the floral scented shampoo that made her growing hair shine, the laundry detergent residue in the t-shirt she slept in, the unique scent of sleepy woman.

He turned his head slowly until he could see her pink and white form standing by his bed. She had her arms crossed over her t-shirt covered chest, as if cold. He could, in fact, see the goose bumps raising over her bare arms and legs. He knew she wasn't really cold. She was just reacting fearfully to the sound of the violent wind and crashing thunder. 

She hated the storms that had visited New Concord lately. He wasn't too fond of them himself. He didn't like not being in control of something that could ruin everything he and the family had worked for. But at that moment, he was grateful for the storm. Because it had accomplished in one night what he'd been unable to do for the last month. 

It had driven her into his arms.

Moving carefully for fear of scaring her away, he turned to his right side, facing her. She continued to stand next to him, so he felt safe in making the gesture he'd been wanting to make for days. Hell, for years.

He fisted the edge of the sheet. The force of his grip indicative of the desire running through his body. He was so keyed up, so hungry for her, so lonely without her next to him in bed.

Slowly he drew it back from his nude body. A gesture to show both welcome and to reveal how his flesh burned for her. Hiding nothing from her, trying to convey, without words, that the decision was hers.

He watched as her eyes traveled down his form and felt a fierce sense of triumph as a small fire flickered to life within her gaze.

Zar closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, he could tell she'd come to some decision. It was in every line of her quickly relaxing body. He smiled at her as she climbed into bed with him. And was rewarded with a small up-turning of lips in return. 

He stopped her from curling into his chest and instead quickly flipped her so that her back lay against his chest. Her body tensed briefly, then relaxed against his. It had always been their favorite sleeping position, something he was hoping some part of her would remember.

Every muscle, every bone, pore and cell in his body seemed to breathe her in. He had to close his eyes against the overwhelming sensation of rightness that raced along his nerves. Searing them with an almost painful intensity as he enfolded her against his body. 

It had been such a long, hard, heart breaking journey to get to this point.

She'd looked away from his offered hand that night in the swamp. He'd been afraid she'd been too far gone mentally. He was lowering his hand when she'd shocked the hell out of him by turning her head back and revealing the tears running down her face. Her eyes more alive than he'd ever seen since he first encountered her outside of Genesco's. 

If he hadn't already been on his knees he soon would've been when she further stunned him by trying to speak. 

"Zara...Zarabeth?" The words had come out croaky, hesitant and whisper quiet, but they'd undoubtedly come out. 

It took a few seconds for his world to right itself, but when it did, he realized what she was asking.

Swallowing past the guilty lump in his throat, he whispered back, "She's going to be fine, Zar. Thank you for saving her. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't realize what you were trying to do. It's no excuse...but it's all I have."

He expected his apology to be met with anger or derision, at the very least apathy. He absolutely didn't expect her break into sobs and fall to her knees in front of him. 

The barriers that had been keeping her from interacting with everyone had obviously been torn down. Whether it had been the scare of losing Zarabeth or the trauma of his attack, he didn't know. Maybe they never would. But the abrupt change from zombie queen to painfully emotional woman left him nonplussed.

Hesitant to touch her, he watched helplessly as she continued to weep. He'd only seen Zar cry this hard one other time. When she'd confronted him about his infidelity with Miriam Gonzalez. Her slapping his face and chest less painful than the knowledge that he'd torn her heart apart with his lack of respect for her love and their relationship. At that time, he'd let her sob until she'd weakened herself to the point of collapse in his arms.

He wasn't about to put her through that again. Gently grasping her shoulders he hugged her shuddering form to his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight as she continued to cry. A small happiness had opened in him as he murmured soft words of comfort and reassurance. He had wanted to do this for her for so long. To offer her comfort as she crawled her way out of the torment Bieti and his heinous actions had put her through for four long years.

When her sobs were reduced to small shivers and tiny catches of breath he had stood and picked her up. Carried her through the night forest to the house. Audrey and Imam, still keeping vigil over Zarabeth, had been struck silent at the sight of him carrying a very much alive Zar in his arms. They soon recovered and had started to issue rapid fire questions. Only easing up when he gave them a firm shake of his head and a warning glare over Zar's head. She didn't need to be overwhelmed right now with well intentioned smothering. She needed space and comfort and rest.

He had started for the bathroom with every intention of cleaning her up then putting her to bed. But she had slid out of his arms and headed for Zarabeth's room. At the doorway she had smiled to see the quietly sleeping child. 

Placing comforting hands on her shoulders he quietly admonished her, "Did you think I would lie to you?"

Shaking her head she had answered him back in her husky whisper, "No...I just had to...see...for myself." Her words were understandably hesitant. After all, she hadn't spoke in four years. But she WAS speaking now, that was the important part.

She talked more each day after that. Until a week later she was speaking smoothly, if raspily. 

It was apparent that she was clear headed now, though she insisted she still had no firm memories of any one before her rescue. But he would catch her looking at him sometimes. She'd always quickly look away whenever their eyes met, but not before he caught a glimpse of frustration and confusion and... longing. She remembered something about their past. He was betting it just wasn't a full blown memory. Probably more of a remembered sensation or feeling.

She still was no where near the old Zar. He doubted she ever would be. She'd been through too much for that to be a reasonable expectation. But as she became more involved with the family, especially Zarabeth, he saw the new person begin to mix with the old. She didn't have the same reactions to things as the old Zar had. She was quieter, shyer...yet her smile when she was truly happy was pure Zar. The eyes might not twinkle as much as they had previously, but they were only dimmed, not extinguished. 

She might be a quieter version of Zar, but the change from walking vegetable to normal person was loud and clear. She became a friend to Audrey, a willing helper and conversationalist for Imam and an avid picture coloring buddy with Hill. But the most amazing alteration was with Zarabeth.

The two had bonded as Zarabeth and Zar recovered. Where before the attack Zar had kept the little girl at arms length, now she involved herself as much as possible. Quite laughter and loud giggles could be heard coming from Zarabeth's room at any given time during the day. Just as the sight of Zarabeth hugging Zar in her sleep, as the two took a nap, could greet anyone looking into the room occasionally.

It was enough to make him love her all over. The old mixing with the new...it didn't matter. She was Zar. She was his. 

He knew the day would come when they would be lovers again. He just had to give her time. And though he had learned patience the hard way, he found himself anxious to touch her. There'd only been three women he'd been intimate with since coming to Whitson's Crossing. One, a waitress at the a bar...strictly casual. They'd both only been looking for the sex. The other two had been passer's through. Pilot's off the normal trading routes looking for a quiet chance to stock up on supplies. One night stands that satisfied his need for sex. The only thing he wanted to satisfy. Only Zar had created, and fulfilled, his need for intimacy.

A lifetime of taking what he wanted warred with the certain knowledge that he couldn't force her to come to him any earlier than when she was ready. To do so would be to risk scaring her away. The old Zar would've told to him to go fuck himself if he had tried anything she wasn't ready for. He wasn't sure enough of the new Zar to be certain that she wouldn't freeze him out. Or leave him.

For all the love he felt for her, he still had no idea how to get close to her again. He wasn't a gentle man. Had never tried to charm a woman in his whole violent, sorry life. Never had to. Women, and for that matter some men, had thrown themselves at him. The ones who didn't want to kill him or weren't pissing their pants in terror of him of course. Theoretically he knew what most men would do. The flowers and candy, the hand-holding, the long talks. 

Even if he could make himself act so sappy, it wouldn't work. He and Zar had too much history for that. Unfortunately, she didn't exactly remember that history. For all he knew she just thought of him as Zarabeth's father...or the guy who'd beat the shit out of her. 

So he'd been reduced to just watching her. Knowing he was probably freaking her out, but unable to get past the knowledge that approaching her may send her running in the opposite direction.

But now...now she lay wrapped in his arms. Her head resting on his upper arm. The warmth of her body stoking the fire raging in his.

He wanted to touch her, master her body all over again. Learn what gave her pleasure, teach her what pleased him. He was rock hard against her, but he knew he had to let her make the first move. He would never be sure otherwise if she was just staying because he forced the issue, or even worse, was staying because it would be the easier thing to do. 

He could feel her heart beat both within his chest and through her back as it pressed against him. It was the strong beat of a strong woman. It reassured him that she was there, alive and for the most part whole. That he had not destroyed one of the most precious things he'd ever been allowed to be apart of.

The storm raged and the wind blew and still she lay against him for long minutes. Both occasionally shifted, but neither spoke. They were too intent on soaking up the feel of each other. Just when he thought he'd have to forgo the surety of knowing it had been her decision alone and touch her, she ran her fingers lightly over the palm of the arm on which her head rested.

The sensation shot straight from his hand to his groin. Her touch was tentative, but it was all he needed. 

With more passion than grace, he flipped her on to her back. Sliding his body over hers while enfolding her head in his hands as he kissed the breath right out of her. Filling her mouth with his tongue as if the recess held some magical potion and the only way he could possess it was to drink deeply and quickly. Coming up for air only to rid her of her t-shirt and panties. 

Now she was as bare as he. Resting on his elbow while leaning to one side, he ran his hand down her side from shoulder to knee. Watching as his fingers trace a body that, while somewhat thinner, nevertheless still somehow reminded him of the Zar he first loved on Polaris. Raising her leg so that her foot rested flat on the bed, he bent and kissed her knee. His path let him nibble and lick his way over her thigh, blowing lightly on the neighboring curls then kissing his way over her stomach until his journey ended between her breasts. Loving each breast tip with hard, sucking pulls of his teeth, then softly licking as if in apology for the mock rough treatment.

Raising his head, he looked at her face. She was smiling at him in that mysterious way the new Zar had. He smiled back at her, a smile that few others had ever seen from Richard Riddick.

"You ready for this?" 

He barely heard his own growling voice above the raging tempest outside the window and the wild beating of his heart. But he knew she would, and it was important to him that she knew exactly what was going on.

Zar nodded, and just to make sure that he knew she was very sure, ran one hand down his furred chest until it found him laying against her inner thigh. His hips bucked instinctively as she stroked him and then there was no more thinking.

Just him and her. His black hole of need for her, that while sometimes blocked, was never, ever filled. And her love for him that survived separation and torture and soul-destroying change.

They came together like the storm that raged around them. Hard-driving, elemental, primitive. The plunging and retreat of their bodies creating a friction mixed of sweat and sex and breath. 

Lightening flashed into the room. Temporarily blinding him, but it didn't matter. If he'd been in a room filled with a thousand stars, he would still know who was moving beneath him. She was Yin to his Yang, oxygen to his fire, life to his dead soul.

Gripping her bottom, he raised her slightly and started plunging deeper and faster. Heard her moan, saw her hands fist the sheets at her side, watched as her eyes closed in desire overload. He knew she was on the edge when her muscles started to grip him tighter, and it became very important all of a sudden that she know exactly who was driving her over that edge.

Zar didn't hear his first gasped out "Say my name!" Too caught up in the excruciating tension that was gripping her body. But her eyes flew open when that part of his body that was supplying all that wonderful feeling suddenly stopped. Panting in desperation she looked at him, beyond caring that he saw her surprise and pique. Her frantic irritation growing when he laughed low and with a great deal of male arrogance.

The storm outside eerily quieted as if it was holding it's breath in anticipation of what he would do.

He whispered "Say my name, Zar." Simultaneously breaking her heart and increasing her love for a man who, though he told her she had returned from the dead to him not once but twice, still doubted her need for him. She might not remember all that had gone on before, but she did remember the feeling of love. Of being loved by the man now apart of her body in the most intimate way possible. 

She whispered back to him with tears pooling in her eyes, "Richard. My Richard." 

The storm let loose at once with the resumption of his thrusts. The man and the weather phenomena's intensity matched in determination to mark the land and the body that lay under them as theirs forever.

She didn't scream like Zar used to when she came. But instead gasped as if all the breath was leaving her body while her eyes flew open wide in amazement. Blind with the pleasure, trusting him to protect her in her vulnerable state of unawareness. Her body arching hard against his as it tried to crawl inside.

He followed seconds later. Forcing his eyes to stay open through the release. Burning the sight of her face and body on his altered corneas. Ensuring that until his dying day, he would never forget the picture of her giving herself and her love to him once again. His minds eye exploding in all the colors he could no longer see, but still vividly remembered. The world inside him shifting back to its correct axis. 

And he knew in that instant the truth. Zar had found her own redemption, and in doing so, saved him all over again.


	18. Epilogue

Epilogue

Twenty years later.

She heard him approach from behind even before he put his arms around her waist. She wasn't surprised he knew where to look for her. This was a place that would always call to her. And now that they were leaving, maybe for a very long time, he'd know that she'd want to say good-bye.

"You almost ready?" he asked softly. Kissing the top of her hair. There was no impatience or censure in his voice. He was just trying to distract her from the pain he knew she felt whenever she visited this place. Because, for all it's being her favorite spot, it was still a site that caused her pain. 

She nodded her head then reached to the top of the tombstone to place the two stones she held in her hand. Kissing her fingertips, she touched them lightly to the names engraved in the marble.

ZARIFA AND RICHARD FARMER

BELOVED PARENTS 

DEVOTED FRIENDS

BELIEVERS IN REDEMPTION

Imam and Audrey had insisted on adding the last line. It wasn't until many months later that Zarabeth knew why.

It had been over a year since their deaths. And if there was acceptance and happiness in her heart that they'd had both found peace in death together, there was also a gnawing pain that she suspected would lighten, but never entirely disappear. 

How could there be when the memories of her life before their death had been so happy while of their demise was something she would never remember without a deep stab in her heart? Both killed instantly when in a freak accident, their transport had flipped in a storm on the way back from town. The family had found them the next day when the morning had come and their bed found to be empty. Imam had been sure they had stayed the night in town due to the storm. But Zarabeth had known there was something wrong. The empty spot in heart becoming a chasm at the first sight of the wreckage.

She'd broken down when she saw the bodies. Lost to black, heavy, oily pain on knowing that her beautiful mother and strong father would never be a part of her life ever again. At least they had been together at the end.

She hadn't been the only one affected. Imam, who before was a young seventy-two, had aged into an old man overnight. Walking with a stooped shuffle and dead eyes when previously he'd been a strong-backed farm worker and faithful holy man. Aunt Audrey had been devastated. Crying so hard she had made herself retch. Hill had been forced to sedate her. And Hill...Hill had been stoically quiet. All his emotions had been shoved down deep. He'd tried to emulate the man he'd most admired. Richard Farmer would've never cried or broken when unbearable pain was unleashed. He could only pay homage to the man who'd been his hero by doing the same. Concentrating his energy into taking care of his daughter and the rest of the family.

Before the accident, he'd been something of a slacker. He, and the woman he'd always thought of as his mother, Audrey, had moved into town just a year before for Audrey's short lived marriage to his now dead step-father. He'd reveled in the lack of hard work, only having to worry about his job a bartender and partier. 

Overnight he'd become a man. Making arrangements for the burial, taking over the day-to-day running of the farm, taking care of Zarabeth and the others...it hadn't come easy. But he realized that there was no one else to do it. 

One good thing had come out of the tragedy. His eyes had been opened where Zarabeth was concerned. Where before he'd always seen her as either a pesky little brat, then as an unsophisticated farm girl, he now started to see her as a woman. A woman who needed him. A woman who made him feel like being a man like her father. A strong man, a dependable man. A man who loved his woman with all his heart.

They had married two months ago. He hoped Zar and Richard would've approved and had silently asked for their blessing on his wedding night as he held their sleeping daughter in his arms. He promised them that he wold always be there for her, even unto death. Zarabeth had snuggled closer and smiled in her sleep. He took it as a sign that her parents were okay with it.

They probably would've stayed on the farm forever if Zarabeth hadn't received a vid-letter addressed to her mother from someone on Jessup 2. It seemed a man, on his death bed, had demanded his son find a Zarifa Cholena-Arnett. His father had helped her flee the farm after some sort of deadly incident at her and her husbands place. Part of their very valuable land belonged to her. His father had been keeping it in trust for her for over twenty years. Hoping she would come back one day. As he lay dying, he made his son promise to find her or her heirs. His son, being a religious man, had agreed and was glad his father went to his death with peace of mind.

It had taken a lot of money and over seven years to find her, but he finally did. 

Zarabeth had been stunned. Neither her mother nor her father talked about their pasts. Period. Aunt Audrey and Uncle Imam had made vague references occasionally, but nothing concrete.

The time for secrecy was past. Both were dead and could not be hurt by the truth coming out.

She asked for the truth from Audrey. Audrey, understanding the young woman's need for clarity, had given it her. No holds barred. Only holding back Hill's true origins. Knowing he wasn't ready to hear the complete truth yet.

Zarabeth had sat dazed after Audrey finished. Trying to reconcile the man she new as the most loving and devoted father and husband in the world with the still notorious psychopath Richard B. Riddick. She couldn't get the Audrey had described to equal the man she knew. She remembered how gently and respectfully he had treated her mother and herself. But know she was supposed to believe he'd been a rapist and murderer?!

Even worse was her mother's early history of victimization by violent men and mercenaries. How she had been forced to kill to protect Richard, much he had killed to protect her. And how Zarabeth had been used as an instrument in her torture and temporary, but horrifying, separation from Richard. 

No wonder Uncle Imam had always preached that people can change for the better. He had seen first hand how one of the most dangerous and vilified men in the known galaxy had become a loving husband and father.

When she finally got her breath and composure back, she felt very proud of both her parents. Of what they had made of themselves and for what they had made for her and the rest of the family.

She and Hill had talked about it and decided to go see the property on Jessup 2. She wanted to see the place where the sequence of events had started her mother's course to intersect with her father's.

Audrey and Imam would look out after the farm and each other while Hill and Zarabeth were gone. Help from town would just be a call away to some of Hill's school buddies.

Today was the day. She was afraid of what else she would learn. Of where she was really from. But something was pushing her to go. She knew her parents would understand.

"We're going to miss the shuttle if we don't get going, love."

Hill rested his chin on her shoulder. His chest was a solid strength against her back, his arms secure around her waist. He rocked her gently as a mother would rock it's upset child. She was so lucky to have him. Her knight in shining armor. A dark haired, dark eyed, tall, lean man with a wide smile you saw little of. But when he did...oh my! He was her one constant in a world turned upside down.

Tears ran softly down her face as she nodded. 

"Bye, Mama. Bye, Daddy. I know you're together and watching over all of us. Keep an eye on Aunt Audrey and Uncle Imam for me. 

Wish us luck."


End file.
